Star Tron: Hidden Dangers
by MustangAce
Summary: The fourth story in my Star Tron series. As Zarkon's forces intensify their raids on Arus, an unknown force is making covert raids across the planet. Rating upped to T for swearing. FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

**A/N: Welcome to the next installation of my series. Hopefully, I'll be able to update more frequently than I did with my last story. So, read, review, enjoy, and, as always, check 6.  
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P.S. A Sims beacon is a flashlight strapped to one's wrist.**

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 1 

Late at night, a dark shape moved through the trees near the large village of Olessa. Stepping out onto a moonlit road, the black-clad man looked around, listening for any sign of life. Detecting none, he gave a bird call, signaling the all clear to his comrades.

Four other figures emerged from the shadows. All five were lightly armed, and carried packs on their backs. They moved swiftly and soundlessly down the road, crouched low, darting in and out of the shadows by the trees. They were not far from their destination. Only another kilometer or so.

As they neared the town, the five soldiers slowed their pace. It wouldn't do to be detected now, so close to their target. Coming within sight of the outskirts, they saw two figures on the road ahead. Through their night-vision goggles they were able to make out two Starfleet security officers carrying phaser rifles and Sims beacons. Neither was keeping an attentive watch, as they were engaged in a quiet conversation, facing toward the town.

As he drew nearer, the leader's first impulse was to take them down. But then, he thought better of it. How delightful it would be seeing them humiliated for allowing his team to sneak in under their very noses! He made a series of hand signals to his team, silently ordering them to move back into the trees and go around the sentries.

"So how long do you think it'll be before that base is up?" one of the guards asked.

"I don't know. A year maybe?"

"I give it six months. It's the first base in this whole dimension. You know Starfleet's gonna pour everything into it."

"Yeah, maybe so. I guess we'll see…"

The leader smiled as his team moved past the sentries. Suddenly, he froze as he heard a twig snap. The guards had heard it, too.

"What was that?" the first guard asked, raising his weapon.

The other pulled out a tricorder and started sweeping the area. The device beeped as it was pointed at the leader of the infiltration team. The sentry's eyes went wide as he started to shout, "Intru…."

He never finished his sentence. Before the first word was out of his mouth, there was a knife embedded in his throat and he collapsed to the ground as he choked out his last breath. Seconds later, his companion fell beside him, similarly stricken. The leader retrieved his knife, and led his team onward, leaving the two dead guards behind.

A few minutes later, the team was slinking through alleys and dim back streets toward their goal: the Starfleet command post. They had no chance of taking out the command post itself. It was too heavily defended. However, they could do plenty of damage to the outlying support and storage buildings.

And that's exactly what they set about doing, sneaking around the camp, planting charges, and disappearing back into the shadows.

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Commander Charles Wright sat at his desk in the barracks building near the center of the Olessa command post. Wright was a tall, thin man with dark brown hair that was beginning to gray at the sides, and dark, piercing eyes. He'd been in Starfleet more than thirty years, and had worked on projects across the Federation. He was no stranger to tough conditions and tight deadlines.

Wright was looking over plans and reports submitted that day. Tomorrow they'd be breaking ground on the new school on the west side of town, and he was in the process of reviewing and approving equipment and personnel assignments for the project.

Since they'd arrived, the 28th Engineering Battalion had been occupied with mostly domestic and commercial construction. The new school would be the first major infrastructure rebuilding project that the Starfleeters would take part in.

As he worked through the stack of PADDs, Wright caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, just outside his window. He looked over, but saw nothing. Such things were not uncommon. A lot of local kids came sneaking around, trying to pilfer a few stem bolts or a piece of tritanium. Most of the time, the guards would catch them, scold them, and send them home. Wright couldn't help but smile at the thought. For all the worlds he'd been to, there were some things that never changed, and the fascination that young people had for construction sites was one of them.

But just minutes later, Wright was thrown from his chair as a series of explosions rocked the camp, blowing the pane of transparent aluminum out of his window. Picking himself up, he raced from the office as the realization hit him that what he'd seen had been no local kid.

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Keith, Lance, Pidge, Allura, and Hunk shuffled wearily into the lounge and flopped down on the nearest available seats. They'd just returned from their third flight that day, not counting Lion practice.

It had been like this for over a week now. Raids were coming at all hours of the day and night, often several times each day. Star cutters and battleships attacked the starships and starbase in orbit, while others, always with fighter escort, attacked the Castle of Lions and surrounding villages. The only saving grace was that few attacks were accompanied by robeasts.

The Federation ships had reported that several of the attacking battleships were equipped with enhanced laser weapons, perhaps the result of further development of the ionized topaz technology. These ships, while repeatedly working over the Starfleet ships, never fought long enough to destroy them. Only for the few minutes it took for the planet-bound forces to complete their raid, and then they withdrew. Oddly, they even seemed to target non-vital areas of the ships.

More disturbing, though, was the recent rash of sabotage. Persons unknown had been making covert attacks on villages, destroying construction equipment, stockpiles of materials, and engaging in terrorist activities including bombings. The Starfleet engineers in the villages were stretched thin, and rebuilding projects had slowed to a crawl as Starfleet officers were deployed to supplement local police forces.

The constant attacks were taking their toll on the team, as well. They were exhausted, the Lions were beginning to show the increased wear and tear, and everyone's nerves were frayed.

The five pilots sat there for a long time, trying to relax a little, when the Castle alarms sounded again. Their training taking over, they all bolted for the Control Room, ready to take to the air again, but when they arrived, Coran waved them off. "It's all right. A false alarm. There is a freighter approaching with parts for the starbase." The old advisor was, like the rest of them, showing the effects of the constant alerts. There were bags under his eyes, and his voice was not a strong as it normally was.

Lance mumbled a particularly vile epithet and left the room, with the others following suit. All but one.

"Coran, can you patch me in to the _Berlin_?" Keith asked. The old advisor nodded, and silently made the connection.

"_This is the _Berlin_. Go ahead, Castle Control_," said the voice of Commander Jacobs.

"This is Commander Keith. Can you put me through to Captain Driscoll?"

"_Sorry, Commander. The Captain left orders not to be disturbed unless there's another attack_."

Keith cursed inwardly. "Please ask him to call me when he gets a moment."

"_Will do, Commander. _Berlin_ out._"

Keith turned and nodded to Coran, then left the room, headed for the gym. Despite his exhaustion, he was too high-strung to be able to rest. Hopefully, he could expend some of that energy and still have time for some sleep later that night.

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While Keith headed for the gym, the others returned to the lounge. "What are we gonna do about this?" Hunk asked. "I don't know about you guys, but I've had about all I can take."

"Me, too," said Pidge. "I could sleep for a week."

"I don't know, guys. I suppose Keith will come up with something," Lance replied. "He always does."

Allura nodded. "But we need to protect the people in those villages. As tough as these raids are on us, my people are losing their homes and their lives. It's like Zarkon's invading all over again."

"Damn Zarkon," said Lance. "Why doesn't he just do us all a favor and get himself blown up?" His comment brought a few smiles, but little else. Everyone was just too tired.

Finally, Lance got up and excused himself. His own comment was buzzing in his head. Yeah, Keith would probably figure out how to deal with Doom's latest curve ball, but how? The basic fact was that they were spread awfully thin. Repelling attacks by dozens of ships and hundreds of fighters a day was a tall order for anyone to fill, even the mighty Voltron Force.

Heading down to the gym, Lance wasn't surprised to hear activity within. When he entered, he saw Keith off in the far corner, practicing some of his martial arts moves on a large punching bag.

Lance took off his jacket and boots, and walked up to Keith. "Wanna spar?"

Keith sent a devastating kick into the bag. "Yeah, sure, if you're up to it," he replied without looking at Lance. He finished another series of blows, then backed off, and walked with his friend over to the sparring mats. They faced each other and bowed, then took their opening stances.

Lance struck first, dancing forward as he launched a series of kicks, which Keith alternately blocked or dodged, backing off to keep some space between him and Lance. On one of the kicks, Keith grabbed Lance's leg, twisted him around, and spun him to the mat.

"So whatcha think about all this?" Lance asked as he got back to his feet. "What's Zarkon up to?"

Keith waited for his friend to get ready before attacking. "I don't know," he said between punches. Lance blocked three and dodged two more as Keith advanced. "Maybe," Keith said, spinning a roundhouse at Lance, who ducked it, "he's just trying to keep us occupied so we don't go after him." He jumped to avoid a leg-sweep from Lance.

Lance nodded as he launched a jump-kick at Keith. "Makes se-whoa!" he yelled as Keith sidestepped the attack and sent him sprawling with a quick blow to his back.

"Or else he's softening us up," Keith said as Lance got up. The statement hung between them as they faced each other.

"You think he'd invade again?" Lance asked.

Keith shook his head. "I don't know. He's got a lot to gain if he succeeds, and there's no way we could repel a full-scale invasion. He has to know that."

"But Voltron could."

"Even Voltron could be overwhelmed by numbers. And Haggar…" He didn't have time to finish the sentence as Lance attacked, attempting to sweep his legs, then delivering a series of quick punches as Keith landed.

Keith backed off and squared off against Lance again. "So what do we do about it?" Lance asked.

"Wait until we have more to go on, for starters. Until then, we keep going like we have been," Keith said with a tone of finality. "Now are you gonna fight, or do you just wanna yak all day like an old lady?"

Lance laughed. "I'll show you who's an old lady," he said, taking his ready stance.

"Show me what you got, Corman," Keith replied with a grin.

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The next morning, the Voltron Force gathered over the desert for practice, the five Lions flying a loose vee formation. As usual, Keith scanned the sky above for the telltale white streak that would mark the position of the sixth member of the Force. But today, that streak was absent. "Black Lion to _Thunderwing_, come in." There was no response. "Adam, this is Keith, do you hear me?" Still nothing. So, Keith hailed the starship. "Black Lion calling _Starship Berlin_, where's Captain Driscoll?"

"_This is Gredar,_" came the low, raspy reply. "_The Captain is aboard_."

"Put me through to him, please," Keith requested. There was no reply. Instead, after a moment, he heard Driscoll's voice come over his speakers. "_Driscoll here. Go ahead_."

"Adam, why aren't you down here?" Keith demanded.

"_Technical difficulties, man. _Thunder_ needs engine work. I've fallen behind with all these damn attacks._"

Keith shook his head. Well, he _did_ have a good excuse. "This is why I told you you needed to train someone to work on that thing."

"_Hey, I did. It's not my fault Pidge and Hunk are just as tired as me. Listen, you know Commander Wright, the head of the engineering battalion in Olessa?"_

"What about him?"

"_He called me this morning. Says that after that bombing last night, they found two more guards killed._"

"So?"

"_So one of them had some evidence on his person. I'd like you guys come to the senior staff meeting here today_."

"All right, we'll be there, barring any attacks," said Keith. "In the meantime, I want that plane of yours in the air ASAP."

Keith could almost here the bemused smile on the Captain's face as he replied, "_Will do, boss. Driscoll out._"

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Later that morning, the Voltron Force beamed aboard the _Berlin_ to attend the staff meeting. A security officer escorted the five pilots to the starship's conference room, located on deck two, below and behind the main bridge.

Walking into the room, they found the senior staff of the _Berlin_, Captain Driscoll, Commander Gredar, Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs, Dr. Saladin, Captain Scott, Lieutenants Mordock and Singh, and Lieutenant JG Michael Curtis, already seated. With them was Commander Wright of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.

After introductions were made, Commander Wright stood up and addressed the assembly. "I don't have to tell you that there was another attack last night. We lost half our stockpiles of medical supplies, as well as a large amount of the construction materials that were earmarked for a new school. We also lost two men.

"But they didn't die in vain." Wright reached behind him and picked up a small package that had been sitting behind his chair. From it, he withdrew a knife. It was only about six inches long, wide and flattened. "They slipped up this time, and left us a clue as to who we're dealing with. This knife was used to kill one of the post's sentries." He looked at Keith. "We suspect it's a Doom weapon, and we'd like you to confirm that," he said, offering Keith the dagger.

Keith took it and looked it over, then set it on the table. "You're right, Commander. It is Drule. Specifically, it's a throwing knife issued to Drule Special Forces units."

A heavy silence descended on the room at Keith's revelation. After a moment, Jacobs asked, "So what do we do about it, Keith?"

"There's nothing you can do, Commander" he replied. "If a Doom Special Ops unit is on Arus, all we can do is hope to catch them in the act and take them down."

Allura shot him a look. She didn't like that answer at all. "There must be a way to protect the people in the villages. What about scanning for them? Try to find their camp?" she asked.

"How do we know it's them and not some of your people still hiding in caves?" Keith replied.

"Their bio-signatures are distinct," said Mordock. "We can scan for them."

Keith nodded. "You can try that," he said.

"I sense a 'but' in there, Commander," said Wright.

"You have to keep in mind, these are Special Ops soldiers. Not your run-of-the-mill battle droids. They're trained and equipped to avoid detection at all costs. You won't have an easy time finding them."

Driscoll nodded. "Maybe, but we've still gotta try. Mike," he said, turning to his helmsman, "when we break, I want you to plot a search course that will give Mordock's sensors the best possible look at the surface of Arus. We've gotta find these bastards before they screw up everything that the Arusians have done to rebuild."

"Aye, sir."

"Meanwhile, I'll have some shuttles…" he was cut off by the alarm klaxons sounding as the alert panels in the room flashed red. "_Red alert, all hands to battle stations. Senior crew, report to the bridge immediately_."

"Let's go, move it!" Driscoll barked as his officers quickly deserted the room. "Transporter room, lock onto the Voltron Force and beam them directly to the Castle of Lions."

Before Keith could ask what was happening, he felt the tingle of the transporter sweeping over him as the _Berlin_'s conference room dissolved around him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers

Chapter 2

"Fighter squadron, closing fast, bearing 045," Jacobs announced as Driscoll strode onto the bridge. He moved directly to the center of the bridge, and watched the rest of the officers settle into their stations with practiced efficiency.

"They are targeting the starbase," said Mordock.

"Fall back to the base," Driscoll barked. "Tell _Timberwolf_ to swap places with us." They needed to be ready for anything, as fighter raids were often a prelude to an assault by a group of cruisers. The _Berlin_'s phaser arrays were better for dealing with the fighters, while the _Timberwolf_'s phaser cannons would be more effective against the larger vessels

The great starship heeled around and moved in closer toward the base. As the _Berlin_ reached the station it swung back to face the coming attack just as the fighters swept in, and the battle began. The fighters rushed the starbase, throwing everything they had at it. Luckily, although the base still lacked weapons, its shields were fully operational. The laser fire beat against those shields now, causing cascades of fluorescent color across the surface as the laser energy was absorbed, and the shields cycled. But despite the fireworks, the base suffered no real damage.

"Starbase shields holding," Mordock reported.

"Good," said Driscoll. He whirled around to face the tactical station. "Let's get some flak out there. T.J., fire at will."

The starship's phasers opened up, filling the space around the fighters with deadly red lightning bolts. Immediately, some fighters erupted in flame and streams of debris, while others aborted attack runs to evade the starship's defensive fire and fell back to regroup.

But the fighters didn't give up. A small group of them broke off of the main force and raced around the starship, staying just out of weapons range. These fighters were more heavily armed than the others, carrying lazon/topaz missiles. Coming in behind the starship, where it's defenses were thinnest, they locked on and fired.

"Incoming astern!" Mordock announced, whirling around to face the Captain. "Lazon missiles!"

"Onscreen!" Driscoll ordered. The picture on the viewer changed to show a dozen missiles and half as many fighters coming at them from behind.

"Point defense," Gredar hissed. Jacobs' hands danced across her board, calling up the _Berlin_'s newest system.

On the vessel's stern, two panels slid back and a pair of spherical devices popped out of the hull. Immediately, they began rotating furiously, spewing small, blue bolts of energy. The ion dart launchers shredded the missiles and several of the fighters that flew in too close to the ship. The _Berlin_ was rocked by the blasts, but suffered no damage.

Driscoll grinned, seeing the ion darts in action. He owed Hunk and Pidge a big thank you dinner for their good work.

He was called back to the situation at hand as Mordock announced, "Remaining fighters are massing for an assault."

Driscoll looked at the viewer, which now displayed an image of the fighters as they grouped up to launch a new attack on the base. He turned to his tactical officer. "Two torpedoes, set for proximity detonation."

Jacobs entered the commands on her console. "Torpedoes ready."

"Target the middle of the formation…fire!"

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Materializing in the Castle of Lions, the Voltron Force raced for their launch tubes and were airborne in moments. "Where are they, Coran?" Keith asked, scanning his instruments as the others formed up on Black Lion.

"There's a fighter squadron attacking the starbase," Coran replied in his ever-calm baritone "_Berlin_ and _Timberwolf_ are defending."

"We should get up there, Keith," said Lance.

Keith was about to agree and head out, when he was suddenly struck by an odd hunch. Why only send fighters against the starbase? Where were the battleships? "No," he said finally, "they can handle a few fighters. We're staying here."

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Commander Torka swore under his breath as his group of six fighters bore down on the Castle of Lions and its nearby villages. The Voltron Lions were still hanging around, patrolling the area. But there was no way they could have been detected. Their masking technology was impervious, wasn't it?

"_Lead, this is Four. What should we do?_"

Torka thought a moment. With the Lions hanging around, there was a chance his team could be detected. They had to avoid that at all costs. But then, they had a mission to complete. Thinking quickly, Torka modified the attack plan.

"This is Lead. Four, Five, and Six will attack and distract the Lions. Two and Three, we will carry out the strike as planned."

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For several long minutes, nothing happened. The battle was in space, and even that was waning as the starships cut down the attacking fighters, suffering little damage to themselves.

Keith was about to move the team up to join the _Berlin_ when an explosion rent the air nearby, and Hunk screamed, "Argh! I'm bit!" Keith's head whipped over in time to see Yellow Lion tumble from the sky.

"Three fighters diving on us!" Lance warned before Red, too, was hit.

Keith turned Black Lion and raced to his friends' aid, seeing three black fighters attacking the Lions. Yellow and Red lurched drunkenly as they tried to recover and evade further attacks, while Blue and Green broke away and began a counterattack, weapons appearing on their shoulders and flanks, hurling death at the enemy.

But just as suddenly as they appeared, the fighters were gone.

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Torka grinned as he watched his fighters strike the Voltron Force and leave them flying in confused circles. Everything was working perfectly. The Voltron Force had no idea what he was up to. He doubted they even knew what they were up against.

"Two and Three, prepare for attack," he commanded, swinging around the airfield and lining up his missile run. In a few more seconds, it would all be over.

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"What was that?" Pidge demanded in shock as he steered Green into a slow circle.

"I don't know. They looked like regular fighters," said Allura.

"Well, they sure don't _hit_ like regular fighters," said Lance.

"So where'd they go?" Pidge wondered aloud.

Suddenly, Hunk called out, "Guys, the airfield!" Everyone turned to see three more fighters attacking the landing field southeast of the castle. One barrage of missiles had already struck, cratering the field and starting several fires on the hangar level.

"Come on, let's go!" Keith ordered. All five Lions charged forward to defend the base, weapons blazing, as the black Stinger fighters wheeled around and made another attack pass. But as they fired their missiles, they shimmered and disappeared.

The five Voltron pilots scanned the sky and their instruments. Nothing. There wasn't so much as a ghost echo on their radar.

Lance was the first of the dumbfounded pilots to speak. "So now what?"

Keith stared at the airfield, cratered and burning, and for once in his life, he had no idea what to do next.

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Torka checked his indicator board, and saw that all five of his squadmates were with him as he withdrew. Except for the Voltron Force showing up, everything had gone as planned. Their masks were more that sufficient to evade their sensors. Now that they knew this, they could plan more effective strikes against more important targets. Oh yes, this was only the beginning. If everything went as he hoped, Torka mused, the planet would be ripe for Lord Zarkon's invasion within a month.

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Aboard the _Berlin_, Captain Driscoll watched on the viewer as the fighters came streaking in at the starbase again. Of the original one hundred fighters that attacked, less than thirty remained.

"Fire phasers! Take 'em out!" Driscoll ordered. The energy beams lashed out at the fighters, scoring hits on ten of them, which exploded like small suns. The remaining fighters regrouped and retreated, heading out of the system.

Driscoll grinned as he watched the ships flee, but he wasn't about to let them go so easily. Whatever their mission was, it had failed, and now they were going to reap the whirlwind. "Driscoll to shuttlebay, prepare _Thunderwing_ for launch, max-range loadout." He turned to Gredar. "Commander, the ship is yours. I'm going to follow 'em and find out where their base is."

"I advise against it, sir," Gredar replied.

"Noted, but I don't care," Driscoll replied, turning and heading for the turbolift. "Besides, they'll be less likely to notice _Thunder _than the _Berlin. _Start scanning for survivors from the fighters," he added quickly as he disappeared into the lift. Moments later, Gredar watched as _Thunderwing_ left the shuttlebay, carrying two drop tanks. The rest of the bridge crew also looked on as the fighter cleared the ship and leapt into warp.

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"He _what_?" Keith demanded. Gredar's emotionless, snaggletoothed face stared back at him from the main screen in Castle Control. The Commander had just told him of Driscoll's self-imposed mission to shadow the fighters back to their base

"I, too, advised against it," the Gorn hissed.

"Okay, thanks for the heads-up, Commander," Keith replied. Coran cut the communication and turned to Keith, who had called the starship to inform them about the fighters Unfortunately, Gredar had no answers, either. They hadn't seen the attack on the airfield. Gredar had merely assured them that he intended to follow Driscoll's orders, and move the ship close to the planet to scan for the Doom encampment.

Keith looked at the rest of his team. "I can't believe he did that…" he mumbled. "Of all the stupid, irresponsible…"

Lance huffed. "Glory-hog."

Everyone looked at him sideways, and he threw his hands up as if to say, "What?"

"We should go after him, Keith," Allura said, her face hiding none of her concern for the young captain. "He'll need help, especially if there are more fighters."

"Yeah, we can't just let him hang like that," Hunk said.

Keith considered it a moment. Hunk and Allura were right. They couldn't just let Driscoll risk his neck all alone like that. But then, what if they did run into trouble? Two Lions were already damaged, and all of the pilots were tired. And then there was the random frequency and intensity of the attacks. What if another attack came while they were out chasing Driscoll? What if there were a robeast?

Finally, Keith looked around at his team and Coran, locking eyes with each in turn. "I'm sorry, we can't risk it. If there's another attack before he returns…"

"You can't be serious!" Lance blurted.

Coran cleared his throat. "I'm inclined to agree with the Commander. Captain Driscoll knows what he's doing. We cannot take a greater risk by further depleting our forces, especially in light of all the recent attacks. Let us just hope that he returns safely."

The others silently echoed that prayer, but none more so than Allura. All six of them were a team, but Adam was her wingman. He covered her so often, and now, when he needed her the most, she couldn't be there. It was an awful feeling. _Please be safe, Adam_, she prayed as she and the others shuffled out of the room.

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A/N: Okay, maybe that wasn't one of my best, blaze-of-glory combat chapters, but this one wasn't about the combat. See you next time.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 3 

Captain Driscoll scanned his instruments for the fiftieth time. Speed, warp three. Reactor normal, coolant in the green, drop tanks half empty.

And he was bored as hell.

Driscoll had been tailing the fighters ahead of him for three hours now, trying to find out where they were launching their attacks from. At first, he'd expected to run into a battleship just outside the system. But when there was none, and the fighters doglegged off, he began to think his guess might have been right, and that the fighters that attacked Arus were not always part of a fleet squadron. He'd been checking the charts he had for this sector of space, and there were almost a dozen possible places that these fighters could be headed. He'd narrowed that down a bit as the fighters passed some worlds, or changed course so that others became less likely.

He'd also had time to formulate his plan. Even though the fighters couldn't see him, it was a safe bet that whatever base they were headed to would have much better sensors, and he'd be the subject of a lot of attention pretty quickly. He planned to do one pass, run a series of scans, and get the hell out before the welcoming committee arrived. Not exactly his specialty, but for his plane, it was old hat. Back in 1945, _Thunderwing_ had been an F-6 photo-recon Mustang. A camera bird, not a fighter.

"Walk in the park for you, eh, old girl?" he asked softly. To his bored mind, the engine almost seemed to thrum a little stronger for a second, as though the plane was answering him. Like many pilots, Driscoll felt a strong affinity for his plane, considering it as close a friend as any human, and just as alive.

His reverie was broken by a beep from the holographic console in front of him. He was approaching a planet. Checking his navigation, he found that he was in the Citrine system, the planet ahead of him was identified as Citrine II. The lack of a name for the planet indicated that it was either uninhabited, or claimed as a colony by another planet.

_Hmm. Uninhabited planet… Good place for a strike base_, he thought. He checked the fighters on the screen, and saw that they were still holding formation. Maybe the base hadn't seen him yet. That would give him the time he needed for his one pass. It was a safe bet that the fighters he was tailing wouldn't turn on him. Not after the pasting they'd gotten from the _Berlin_, anyway. As long as the Doomies didn't have any other fighters or capital ships airborne in the vicinity, it would be a cakewalk.

He followed the fighters in, staying in their sensor shadow as much as possible, and approaching the planet as quietly as he could. Wouldn't do to give them any more warning than he had to.

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"Commander Kozal, our strike force is returning," a robot guard reported.

"How many are left?" Kozal asked. Kozal was a tall, thick-set man with close-cropped white hair. Unlike some Drule commanders, Kozal knew his business. A veteran of thirty years in the Drule military, he'd seen action against the Alliance on more than twenty worlds. He'd earned his command the hard way, through discipline, sacrifice, and genuine achievement.

"Seventeen, sir," the sensor operator reported.

Kozal sighed. Besides his reputation as an exemplary soldier, he was also known as a commander who took care of his men. He expected much of them, but rewarded them well when they lived up to his grueling expectations. He knew every time he sent fighters to Arus, that most wouldn't come back. He'd known that the first time he sent a squadron. It wasn't that he minded ordering soldiers to certain death. That was a part of military life. What he minded was doing it over and over for no apparent reason, as Lotor had him doing now. But he would follow his orders.

"Commander, I'm reading another fighter with them," the guard said.

"What?" Kozal demanded, looking at the sensor display over the guard's shoulder.

"Small fighter, class unknown. Database identifies as _Thunderwing_."

"_Thunderwing_?" Kozal paused, recalling what he knew of the fighter. "Are there any Lions with it?"

"No, sir. It is alone."

Kozal nodded. What was the fighter doing here? No Lions, no starships in the area, so why was Driscoll here? "Continue to monitor. Have Fighter Base One ready a squad of fighters for launch."

"Yes, sir."

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Approaching the planet's atmosphere, Driscoll adjusted his heat shielding and stood ready to activate his propeller. He'd make his pass from about 45,000 feet and 300 miles per hour. That would make it easy for his sensors to get all the data he needed. Now all he had to do was find the base.

He hit the atmosphere just behind the fighters and rode down toward the planet's surface. As of now, the clock was ticking.

He slowed his descent at 75,000 feet, and came out of the fireball at 60,000. The fighters were far below and ahead of him now. They'd obviously seen him and were racing for the base, which presumably had some kind of defensive weapons.

Closing out his holographic displays, Driscoll activated his propeller, setting power for 45 inches of mercury and 2,300 rpm on the prop. He checked his instruments, seeing all readings satisfactory, and turned to follow the enemy fighters. It wasn't long before he saw the base, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

The only word to describe the base was monstrous. Near the main building, which was more of a fortress, there were no less than eight airfields arrayed in an octagon with the fortress in the center. Hundreds of fighters were parked at each airfield. Farther out were at least a dozen landing fields for large vessels, and each one was almost full. Scattered among the airfields were various support buildings and barracks. More such buildings and control centers were arrayed around the landing fields in another ring. Beyond this were industrial and production areas.

Driscoll muttered a Klingon curse and set up his run. Forget one run, it'd take at least three to get all this. He checked the airfields, then changed his plans. Judging by the activity he saw down on the northernmost one, it looked like he'd been noticed. He'd have to be quick.

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"Enemy fighter crossing overhead, Commander," the sensor operator said. "He does not seem to be preparing to attack."

Kozal found this odd. _Thunderwing_ and her pilot had a reputation for aggressive tactics. This new tack was perplexing. What was the fighter up to?

"Have the fighters at Base One stand by. Do not launch until I command it."

"Yes, sir."

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Having passed over the base once to check it out, Driscoll picked a path that would give him the best look at the installation, and came in on his run. "Okay, _Thunder_, we know how this goes, don't we? Nice and easy, now," he muttered, keying in his sensors. Holding the plane steady, he crossed over the base, every sensor he had pointed down at the base, gathering as much data as he could.

Completing his run, he looked at the northern airfield again, and saw that although the fighters were powered up, it didn't look like they were coming up. He wished he had some bombs or rockets to use to properly announce his visit.

But then, an idea struck him. He turned toward the airfield and nosed over, accelerating quickly as he readied his phasers, activated his gunsight, and turned on some classic rock. As "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" played in his earphones, he set up his attack run. This would be a tricky move with two drop tanks under his wings.

He dove down toward the base at a thirty degree angle, the best he could do if he wanted to keep his wings on the pullout. Closing in on the base at nearly the speed of sound, he put his gunsight on the first line of fighters, waited until it filled his gunsight, and squeezed the trigger. As the Devil's fiddle solo played, his phasers stitched up the line of fighters, one after another catching fire and exploding as pilots fled from nearby fighters and ground crews ran for cover.

With a face-splitting grin, Driscoll looked back over his shoulder as he climbed out, banking toward the base. As he passed 500 feet, every defensive gun the Doom base had opened up. But he was still too low. These batteries were designed to engage threats at much higher altitudes.

Passing over the top of the base, Driscoll did another move that would have earned him a good lecture if Keith had seen it. He made a slow roll as he flew over the fortress, flipping off a couple of robot soldiers he saw on the upper levels. Rolling upright, he put the nose down, accelerating again and dropping to fifty feet, barely high enough to clear the outbuildings.

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"Report!" Kozal demanded. He looked at the display showing the burning fighters at base one as the fire crews tried to fight the blazes.

"We've been scanned heavily," the sensor operator replied. "Base one reports twenty fighters destroyed by direct fire, and at least as many damaged."

Kozal pounded his fist on the console. He'd been a fool not to scramble his fighters at the first. _Thunderwing_ and its pilot were not to be underestimated. But that mistake could be corrected easily enough. "Is our strike force still airborne?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Redirect them. I want that fighter destroyed."

"Yes, sir."

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Streaking away from the base, he quickly reached the outlying industrial areas, and looked around as he flew over. What he saw almost made him turn back for another look. Looking up at him from a catwalk was a young man, barely older than himself. He was dressed in shabby clothes, and was covered in dirt and grime.

A slave.

Not only was this a major Doom base, there was a slave-run industrial sector to it as well. That would make dealing with this base a whole lot more complicated.

He waggled his wings at the slave, hoping he understood the message, then set his fighter on its tail and rocketed into the sky, reaching orbit in only a few moments. He immediately set course for Arus at maximum speed. _Keith is gonna freak when he hears about all this_, he thought.

Suddenly, he got an odd feeling. Something was very wrong. He looked back, and was shocked to find six fighters tailing him! The same six he'd followed back here.

Normally, he'd have stayed to dish out some punishment, but he'd already pushed his luck far enough. "Hasta lasagna, you blue crackheads." He pushed his throttle forward, leaping into warp speed. The fighters fired their lasers vainly, trying to score a lucky hit. But by the time the polarized energy reached _Thunderwing_'s former location, the Mustang was long gone.

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While _Thunderwing_ was scanning the Doom base and making its escape with the goods, the Voltron Force was catching up on some much-needed rest.

All but one of them.

Princess Allura stood on the balcony off the dining room, looking out toward Olessa, where the evening glow of the lights gave the false impression of a peaceful evening. From the castle, you couldn't see the damage that had been done by the terrorists. Even though Keith called them special ops, to her they were lowly terrorists. The lowest form of militant scum there was.

And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about them. They'd proven that today, when three fighters had struck the Lions and disappeared, and then three more had hit the airfield. People were dying, homes and buildings were being destroyed, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She beat her clenched fist on the railing in frustration as tears welled in her eyes. It wasn't often she allowed herself such outbursts. But at that moment, she no longer cared who knew how she felt. She was frightened and tired and angry. And on top of all that, she felt helpless.

"Your Highness?" someone called gently behind her. Allura didn't have to look to see who it was. She'd know Coran's voice anywhere. The presence of her advisor, foster father, and friend was most welcome now.

"What am I going to do, Coran? Just when everything seemed to be turning around…" she trailed off, staring off into the sky as Coran walked up beside her. "Now all this is happening. What are we to do?"

"What we have been doing, Princess. What we have always done." Coran paused and looked at her. He waited until she looked at him before he continued. "We will face this challenge. We will adapt and carry on, and we will find the answer." Allura nodded. As always, wise Coran had the answer. "Remember, we thought our situation was hopeless after your father died, and for the longest time, it was. But still, we held out that slim hope that we would overcome. Then the boys came, and our world was reborn. Now, Zarkon poses a new challenge."

Allura nodded again. "And we shall answer it," she said with a determination she hadn't felt in many days. She smiled at her advisor. "Thank you, Coran. I needed that." Truthfully, she didn't feel at all better about the situation, but Coran had made a point that she had missed. This wasn't the first time that there seemed to be no way to victory, and allowing herself to lose hope would be playing right into Zarkon's hands.

"You're welcome, Your Highness," Coran replied. "Now I would suggest you get some sleep. There's no telling when this respite will end."

"Yes, Coran," she replied. "I'll just be a few more minutes."

Coran nodded, and left the Princess to her thoughts. She continued to gaze out over the land for a few more minutes, then headed for her chambers. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, the exhaustion of the past few days catching up with her, and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

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The next morning dawned bright and cool, without a cloud to be seen anywhere in the sky. It was perfect flying weather, and the Voltron Force was taking full advantage of it.

Keith led the Force through a 180-degree tight-formation turn, nodding as he saw everyone was able to keep up. Even Allura, who only a few weeks ago would have found it difficult, barely wavered from her position.

"Okay, guys, evasion pattern delta-three," Keith ordered, "Go!" The lions split, going five different ways, performing a simultaneous chandelle climb with a half-loop at the top, reforming in a loose pentagon formation.

"Good job, everyone, now let's…"

"_Geronimo_!" Keith was cut off as the cry sliced across his radio. Before he knew what was happening, his lock-on alert screeched in his ears, telling him he was in somebody's sights. He pushed Black Lion into an inhuman twisting loop-over as he shouted, "Everyone break now!"

A silver streak shot through the center of the formation before banking left into a wide, easy turn. "Hoo-ya! You're mine, boss!" Driscoll shouted as _Thunderwing _formed up on Blue Lion, now minus its drop tanks.

Keith was on a slow burn. Normally, he'd just reprimand Driscoll, but after what had been going on the past few days, he had no patience left. He was tired, frustrated, and very edgy, and he snapped. Black Lion broke hard, attacking _Thunderwing _from high on the right side.

"Hey, Keith, what'r'ya doin'?" Driscoll asked in shock as he saw a rather large plasma cannon appear on Black Lion's back. His own lock-on alert buzzing, he rolled right and dove out under Keith, who whipped his Lion around quickly to follow. Driscoll broke high, rolling out at the top and diving back down. Keith stayed with him, trying to roll around and get his sights on the Starfleet captain.

"Keith, jeez, man, it was a joke, okay? I'm sorry, now will ya lay off?" Driscoll shouted as he and Keith entered a rolling scissor. Black Lion's tail laser came up and zeroed in on the Mustang.

"Shit!" Driscoll blurted as he pushed over out of the scissor, laser bolts streaking past his cockpit.

"Keith, are you crazy?" Lance asked. "Stop shooting!"

Keith ignored him and kept after _Thunderwing_. It was time someone showed that hotshot kid some humility.

Driscoll saw Keith approaching in his mirror. What the hell was going on? Why was Keith shooting at him? There was no time to figure it out. He'd have to act fast if he wanted to keep his hide in one piece, and if the Voltron Force captain wanted to play rough, that was fine by Driscoll. "Keep comin', man, that's it."

The Lion and the Mustang raced down. At the last minute, Driscoll pulled up, skimming the treetops. Black Lion dropped to the ground and leapt into the air again, now well behind the fighter.

Driscoll kept easing the throttle forward. He didn't dare dive back yet. Keith would be on him in no time. He saw Keith closing on him. "Yeah, that's it, follow me, Lion-boy. I'll show ya not to mess with this."

As Keith lined up his cannon, Driscoll pulled up to vertical and kicked his rudder hard left, spinning the P-51 away from the Arusian ship as a glowing ball of energy shot by him. Black Lion easily followed the maneuver, but was taken by surprise when Driscoll dropped his flaps and gear and cut his engine power, forcing the Lion to shoot past.

Advancing his throttle and pulling up his gear and flaps, Driscoll pushed his rudder pedal to skid in on Keith, who used his tail laser to line up on Driscoll. They put their sights on each other at the same time, warning bells ringing in both cockpits. "Feelin' lucky, punk?" Driscoll shouted as his finger tensed on the trigger.

"ENOUGH! Both of you!" Allura yelled. Driscoll glanced at the holo-display on his front windscreen and saw Allura's angry visage staring back at him, her eyes burning with anger. "Stop now before you kill yourselves."

Driscoll glanced at Keith, who had also appeared on his screen. The two captains glared at each other a moment longer, then Driscoll rolled hard and broke left, while Keith turned his Lion to the right.

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As the team headed back to the Castle, Lance was in a state of shock. What had just happened? Had he just seen Adam dogfight Keith? Had he actually seen Keith shoot at Adam?

Unseen, far above the melee, Commander Torka watched with marked interest. To a less experienced man, the event might have looked like a simple live-fire drill. But Torka knew what he'd seen for what it was. There was dissention in the ranks of the Voltron Force. Interesting.

And perhaps useful, too, when the time was right.

As the Voltron Force headed home, Torka did the same, turning his ship east. Prince Lotor would be very interested to hear of this development.

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"I want to talk to both of you," Coran said as Adam and Keith arrived in Castle Control. He looked at the others. "Privately."

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge headed for the door, but Allura stayed behind. "You too, Your Highness," said Coran.

"No, Coran. This is my planet, and the Voltron Force answers to me." Allura was just as shocked as the rest of the team, and she would not be kept out of the loop. Not this time.

Coran, for his part, only nodded. The Princess was right. She had a right to know, and she deserved an explanation as well. If her captain and wingman had issues, it put her in danger along with the rest of the team.

The old advisor looked at the pilots before him. "What in the world were you thinking? I want to know what happened up there, and I want to know _now_." He looked from Keith to Driscoll. "Commander, Captain, I'm waiting."

"There's nothing to explain, Coran," Driscoll said. "I buzzed Keith, he got me back. We're square."

"You were about to blow each other out of the sky!" Allura blurted. "You call that square?"

Coran nodded. "Quite right, Princess." He turned to the two pilots. "Whatever happened between you two, I want to know, now, otherwise you're both grounded."

"You can't do that!" said Keith, his angry eyes challenging the elder statesman.

"But I can," Allura said coldly. She'd just watched her two best friends nearly kill each other, and she wasn't about to put up with a macho cover-up.

Keith thought a moment. What _had_ happened up there? Adam came out of nowhere, buzzed him, and formed up. It wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Why _had_ he snapped like that? All Adam had done was a buzz him.

And lock his weapons on… 

Yeah, that's what did it. When Adam locked onto Black Lion, that set Keith off. Buzzing was one thing, but when he makes someone think their life is in danger, all for the sake of a joke…

Keith looked at the others. "There's no excuse. I overreacted."

Allura nodded. Se knew that was about all Keith would say about it, and she knew better than to push the issue. Keith was never one to apologize in so many words. Getting him to admit he was wrong was hard enough. Besides, she knew the stress had to be having an effect on him, even if he didn't show it outwardly. She knew from experience that the harder you try to keep everything in, the worse it is when you finally let it out.

Driscoll regarded Keith a moment. "I lost my head, too. Probably wasn't such a hot idea to buzz you like that, either. Sorry, man." He extended his hand, and he and Keith shook. The matter was settled.

Coran sighed. "I know the pressure has been hard on everyone lately. I can't say I'm all that surprised that something like this occurred. But you both should have known better. Keith, what do you think would have happened if you shot Adam down? Or killed him?"

Keith nodded as Coran speared the Captain with a glare. "And you're not innocent, either. With the new fighters that Zarkon is using, and your idiotic idea of locking your weapons onto him, Keith had every reason to believe that you were an enemy fighter making a real attack."

"What new fighters?" Driscoll asked. He'd left to find the Doom base before Keith's report on the new fighters had reached the _Berlin_.

Keith turned to Driscoll. "I'll fill you in."

Driscoll nodded. "Okay. And I'll show you what I found. And believe you me, it's one helluva find."

Coran cleared his throat. "Very well, then. We shall chalk this one up to pent-up frustrations, which I would suggest you BOTH find better outlets for. Captain, I'd like you to refrain from buzzing any of the others until the current crisis is past. And Commander, if you wish to dogfight with the Captain, I'll ask you to do so with your weapons _off-_line."

Driscoll and Keith nodded. "Well," Adam said smiling. "I don't think that's gonna happen, unless Keith wants to get his fanny waxed again."

"What do you mean 'again'?" Keith demanded. "I had you."

Adam started for the door. "Keith, I outmaneuvered you, slid in on your six, and had my pipper pointed right up Black's tailpipe. I owned you."

Keith was a step behind him. "And I had my tail laser on you."

"Shields, Keith," Driscoll said as they walked through the door, side-by-side. "I got 'em, you don't."

"Your shields can't stand…" Keith's voice was cut off as the door closed.

Allura rolled her eyes. "Boys," she huffed in exasperation.

Coran wondered if Allura realized how right she was. Even though they had such heavy responsibility, they were still only boys, he realized, and only human. There was no escaping that. And upon occasion, they would and did do stupid things.

"I hope we find an answer to all this soon, Coran," Allura said.

"As do I, Princess. For I fear for all our sakes, if we don't."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_RL2: As always, thanks for the support. I thought I had made clear at the end of my last story how the triangle turned out, but this chapter will reinforce it a bit._

_Crash: Nice to hear from you again. I actually stole "hasta lasagna" from Mission Impossible (and if anyone who has rights to that is reading this, please don't sue, I know it's not mine). And if you like how it's going so far, just wait until I uncork the big surprises in this one._

_Michaelangelo Cornholio: Been a while, but I'm glad to hear from you again as well. Hope you like the way this story goes. I know my notes look good!_

_So, anyway, on with it..._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 4 

Prince Lotor waited expectantly at the foot of Zarkon's throne pedestal. The King of Doom had summoned him here with news from Arus, but the old monarch was simply sitting on his throne, sipping wine and speaking quietly with Haggar.

Finally, the old witch departed, and Zarkon regarded his son with a look of cool indifference. "Well, my son," he said finally. "The Konogg brigade seems to be doing what you could not."

"What do you mean?"

"The Voltron Force is being worn down. Our commandos are hitting their stockpiles and infrastructure, while our spaceborne raids keep the starships off-balance and Konogg Brigade's new masking fighters are hitting the larger targets. A few dozen are doing what your hundreds could not."

Lotor gave his father an evil look. He didn't like having his past failures flung in his face like this, and he had a few barbs of his own to throw. "And how many ships are we losing in these raids? How many hundreds of fighters? How many dozens of cruisers? I've seen those same reports, Father, and we are still losing men and machines. Eighty percent or more on any given raid. And they are still taking down every robeast that Haggar can send at them."

Zarkon speared Lotor with a sharp look. "But you did not see the latest report from Torka. He observed Black Lion and _Thunderwing_ fighting."

Lotor was unimpressed. "An exercise. What of it?" Lotor replied skeptically.

"No. They were actually engaged in true combat. Why they broke off, he isn't sure." Zarkon smiled thinly. "Do you know what that means, my son?"

Lotor glowered darkly at Zarkon, waiting for the king to fill him in.

"The Voltron Force are being pushed to their limits, and they're ready to break. Loss of discipline is only the first symptom. Very soon, they will be wholly unable to resist us. Without them, our robeasts can finish the starships, and then we can strike."

"But they'll have reinforcements, Father. They'll be ready for us to come long before we can break through."

"It won't matter. You, my son, will assemble every ship and fighter you can spare. This will be the largest invasion in our history."

_And you have the largest ego in our history_, _you old fool. _Lotor silently mocked. But he knew it was pointless to argue now. There was no way that Torka could continue to succeed as he had. How many times had he, Lotor, had the Voltron Force at his mercy, only for them to enact some miraculous escape. They had annihilated entire fleets of his best ships. They had escaped foolproof traps, and defeated invincible robeasts. And when they beat Torka, he wanted to be there to see the look on his father's face.

But for now, there was nothing he could do, except to comply with his father's orders. So he drew himself to attention, spun on his heel, and left to see to the assembly the fleet.

Zarkon reached for his goblet as he watched his son walk out. Happy with the way the meeting had gone. Lotor actually seemed envious of Torka's accomplishments, which was more than Zarkon had hoped for. And though he was pleased with Torka's progress, Zarkon knew Lotor's misgivings were not unfounded. But until he saw reason to do otherwise, he would let events continue as they were.

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Later that evening, the senior crew of the _Berlin _met with the Voltron Force in the Castle of Lions. Coran gave the Starfleeters a briefing on the new Doom fighters, which left Scotty scratching his mustache, already going through the list of techniques for detecting cloaked vessels. He, Hunk, and Pidge kept exchanging glances, and all present knew that those three would be working some long hours on the problem.

After Coran's briefing, Driscoll discussed the results of his recon trip. The images he showed of the base brought more than a few awed whistles. Keith's brow furrowed when he got to the part about the slaves. Driscoll had already given Keith all the details earlier, and he knew the commander was already plotting out ways of dealing with this new problem.

Mordock had found nothing on his sensor sweep. There were a few areas where he got humanoid readings, but there was no technology present, so these were probably refugees hiding in caves. Driscoll agreed to send some away teams to investigate, and hopefully tell the people that it was safe to come out of hiding.

After the meeting, Driscoll headed for the repair bay. He'd made arrangements to meet up with Hunk and Pidge to do some post-flight on _Thunderwing_, after that long recon mission and the dogfight with Keith. Normally, he'd do it himself, but the other two had offered, so he'd accepted. It would get the job done that much faster. When he walked into the repair bay, though, he was alone.

_Oh, well_, he thought with a shrug. It wasn't like he couldn't post-flight the plane himself. So, he set about removing panels from the nose, the gun access doors, and a few panels near the tail as he began his inspection.

He was just pulling the power cells out of his phasers when he heard someone walk up behind him. "Good, you're here. I was starting to think you weren't gonna make it."

"It's me, Adam," said a decidedly female voice behind him. Turning around, he saw Allura looking up at him over the muzzles of his .50 caliber phasers.

"Oh, hi, Ally. What's up?" he asked with a smile. She had changed out of the dress she'd worn to dinner, and was now dressed in the pink jumpsuit she favored for "dressing down."

"Hunk and Pidge are with Keith and Lance. Some kind of classified conference with a Garrison admiral. I'm not invited."

Driscoll nodded. "Yeah, well, you're not military, despite your position. I'm sure Keith wouldn't mind, but boneheaded brass always want things just so."

Allura came around the wing to watch him a moment as he finished removing the last power cell from the wing, and stacked it with the others near the flap. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

Driscoll thought a moment. He didn't know Allura had any interest in technical stuff. "Actually, yeah. Climb into the cockpit and when I tell you, arm the phasers. They're due for a circuit test."

Allura nodded and climbed up onto the wing and into the cockpit. She looked around at the confusing array of switches and instruments and wondered how anyone could fly a craft like this.

A few minutes later, Driscoll called, "Okay, turn 'em on."

"How?"

"Red switch, left of the gunsight. Flip it up."

Allura did as she was told, and saw the gunsight come on. "Good," said Adam. He checked the port guns, then ran around to the starboard. "Okay, kill 'em."

Allura flipped the switch down, and looked at Adam, who had scooted over to the side of the cockpit. "So how do you like my office?"

"'Office'?" Allura asked.

"Old pilot's term for the cockpit," Driscoll explained.

"There's a lot to know up here."

"Well, I'd say the same for your Lion."

Allura nodded and smiled at him. She and Adam had been seeing more of each other for the past few weeks, until the raids started. Whenever they were both free, which was usually every couple of days, they'd go to the _Berlin_'s holodeck, or they'd get together at the castle and talk or watch a movie. If asked, she would say their relationship was becoming very close, but they weren't a couple. Not yet.

She liked Adam, and she really enjoyed being with him. She was close to all the boys, and considered them all to be good friends. Like family, even. But she felt something more with Adam. He talked to her and treated her like a regular person, not a princess, and it was refreshing. But she wasn't quite ready to call him anything more than a friend. She wanted to get to know him better before she went any farther. That, and she wasn't ready to handle the stress she'd get after Coran and Nanny found out she was seeing someone not of royal blood.

"Listen, Ally, I've got kind of a weird question for you," he said. When she nodded, he continued. "When I was over that base, I got this weird feeling. I got this image in my head of a Stinger on my tail, and when I looked back, there it was, and with five buddies to boot, just like I'd seen it. But I never looked at my radar or my mirror. I just _knew_ where he was. And the only other time I had a sense of, I dunno, _awareness_, I guess, like that, was that time I landed Blue."

Allura thought about what he'd said a moment. _That almost sounds like_…_but it couldn't be_. Thunderwing _doesn't have any magic, does it?_ She looked at the Captain and said, "Adam, that sounds like a Lion fusion."

"A what?"

"The Lions have a sort of consciousness of their own. Almost a soul. It's a part of their magic. And when the boys or I are flying, that consciousness extends to us. The Lion becomes a part of us, and we a part of them. The way you described seeing the fighter without using your sensors or eyes, it sounds a lot like a Lion fusion."

Adam had heard of people being so at one with a vehicle, especially a plane, that it seemed to be an extension of their own body. The Spitfire was often described that way, as was his own Mustang. But literally becoming one with your aircraft? "But how can that be?" he asked. "_Thunder_'s a hell of a bird, but she ain't magic."

Allura shook her head. "I don't know, Adam. Even I am just beginning to understand the secrets of the Lions. But you asked, and that's the best answer I can give you."

Driscoll nodded. "Well, thanks. I guess some explanation's better than none. But that one's kinda hard to wrap my brain around."

"Pardon?" Allura asked, not familiar with the metaphor.

"I mean it's hard to understand."

"Many things about the Lions are mysterious. It took father years to learn about them."

Driscoll nodded again. "Lot to think about, there," he said quietly. "Anyway, I'm about done here. Wanna give me a hand buttoning her back up?"

"Sure," Allura said with a smile as Adam helped her out of the cockpit. She watched as Adam showed her the proper way to refasten the access panels on the fuselage, and then they each took a side to work on.

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Lion practice the next morning was brief. With all the combat sorties the Voltron Force had been flying, Keith didn't see the need for the usual full practice regimen, so he was focusing again on formation tactics, something that wasn't getting much use in the recent battles.

Later, Keith and Adam got together to review the information on the Doom base on Citrine II, Hunk and Pidge went off to work on modifying the defenses to deal with the new fighters, and Allura had a meeting with local village leaders. This left Lance with some free time on his hands.

He headed out across the drawbridge into the woods nearby. It had been a while since he'd had any time to wander and think. Taking a trail he knew well, he set out into the woods. This path circled around the castle and came out near the gardens, just beyond what remained of a wall that had once marked the perimeter of the castle grounds.

As he wandered along the path, his thoughts wandered as well, but came to nothing in particular. He watched birds flitting between the trees, and listened to the sound of the breeze in the treetops. It was very peaceful. Almost like when he was a child, before his town was destroyed by Zarkon and his family fled to earth. There had been a wood on his homeworld much like this, where he spent a lot of time as a boy. Before he knew what war was.

He was startled by the sound of something moving, just a little off to one side of him. He turned around just in time to see a shadow disappear into a thicket. _What in the galaxy_? he wondered.

Suddenly, his face was covered by a black-gloved hand and he jammed his elbow back, hearing a reassuring grunt as he hit his assailant in the solar plexus.

He was just reaching for his communicator to call for help, when an answering blow struck him in the back of his head, and his vision swam and faded to blackness…


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 5 

Coran glanced down at the control panel, where the "incoming transmission" light had just flashed on. Checking the identification, he opened the channel, saying, "This is Castle Control, go ahead, Lance." But no words came across the comm link. Instead, there were odd scuffling sounds and muffled grunts. "Lance, are you there?" Coran asked urgently.

There was a burst of static, and the signal cut out. Coran's head jerked up in surprise, and his hand instinctively slammed down on the alarm switch. Klaxons sounded throughout the castle, and within moments, Keith and Adam came sprinting into the Control Room, followed closely by Allura. Hunk and Pidge arrived a minute later as Coran explained, "Lance is in trouble. He tried to signal us, but the connection was cut."

"Did you get a fix on his position?" Keith asked.

Coran nodded, calling up a map of the castle grounds. "He's half a kilometer southwest of the castle, here," he pointed to a spot just beyond the treeline in a wooded part of the grounds. "I can direct you from here."

Keith whirled to face the others. "Adam, Hunk, Pidge, you're with me," he barked, already heading for the door. "Princess, you stay here with Coran."

Allura sputtered in indignation, but before she could protest, Keith and the others had gone.

Coran laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she returned to the console, frowning. "We don't know what's happened, Princess," he said soothingly. "They just want to keep you safe."

Allura didn't reply, but kept scowling while she watched the boys on a side monitor as they dashed into the woods.

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The four pilots charged into the woods, weapons drawn. They paused as Adam glanced down at the tricorder he was sweeping from side to side, scanning for Lance. "Got him, Keith," he said. "Dead ahead, seventy meters."

Keith nodded and led the group quickly down the path, constantly scanning all around for any sign of danger. Within a few moments, they reached the spot Adam had indicated but found nothing there.

Keith directed the others to fan out and search the area. Almost immediately, Pidge called, "Keith!" The commander turned to see the boy holding up the smashed remains of Lance's communicator.

Keith walked over to Pidge and took the device from him. He looked it over for a moment, then dropped it and looked around. "Lance?" he called. "Lance, can you hear me?"

Hunk and Pidge started searching the brush nearby as Adam scanned the area. Several minutes passed, until Hunk called out, "Hey, guys, over here!"

Keith, Pidge, and Adam ran over to Hunk, who had knelt down beside a bruised and battered Lance. Adam scanned him with his tricorder, and confirmed that he was alive. Keith nodded, and began looking around, his eyes carefully gauging each bush and shadow, looking for any sign of trouble while the others took care of Lance. Whatever happened, it had happened fast and without warning. Next to himself, Keith knew Lance was the most vigilant member of the team, even though he didn't always act like it. For something to have overcome him like this…

While his companions took care of their wounded comrade, Keith began searching the area nearby for clues about what had happened. But all he found were a few nondescript bootprints and assorted forest detritus.

"Okay, Keith, we're ready." Adam and Hunk had fashioned a stretcher out of a couple of branches and shirts, and were ready to lift Lance onto it. Keith nodded, and helped the other two move Lance.

As they laid him down, Pidge glanced back at the spot where Lance had been. There, pressed into the ground, was a knife with what looked like a piece of paper tied to the handle. "Wow, Keith, look at this," he said, picking it up carefully between his index fingers and handing it to Keith.

Keith scowled at it, but there was no time to deal with it now. Tucking it into a pocket on his jumpsuit, he said, "We'll look at this later. Let's get Lance back to the castle."

With that the two pilots joined Adam and Hunk, and the four carried Lance back to the palace.

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From a thicket only a few meters away, Commander Torka and his squad had watched quietly as the Voltron Force came and took their comrade away.

Finally, one of the men asked, "Commander, why did you not let us take them? We could have been rid of the Voltron Force once and for all."

Torka regarded the man with the condescending look of one who knows more than he's allowed to let on. "Patience, Razin. Now isn't the time to strike. We must not reveal our plans just yet."

"But sir, King Zarkon…"

"Is light-years away," Torka hissed venomously. "He trusts me to act as I see appropriate, and so should you, Razin. We will have done with those space explorers in due time. Now come, we still have work to do." Torka turned and led his squad away, deeper into the woods, away from the castle.

Indeed, it had been an unlucky chance that had brought the space explorer across their path. But then, it became an unexpected opportunity in and of itself. _Besides_, Torka thought, pushing away the dull ache in his ribs where the man had hit him, _he had it coming for that one._

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Allura came jogging into the hospital wing, her skirts flying around her legs. She'd only just got word about Lance, and had come as quickly as possible. She found the boys standing around in the waiting room, which could only mean that Lance was with Dr. Gorma.

Keith briefly described to her what had happened in the woods, as well as his own thoughts about what had happened during the attack. When he mentioned the knife, Allura's eyes widened. "He wasn't stabbed, was he?"

"No," said Keith. "The knife was underneath him, with something tied to the handle."

"What?" she asked.

"Yeah, Keith, what was on that thing?" Pidge asked.

"I haven't had a chance to look at it yet," Keith replied.

"Doesn't look like we're going anywhere right now," said Hunk.

Keith nodded and pulled the knife out of his pocket. It was the same type of flattened throwing knife that Commander Wright had shown them aboard the _Berlin_. Keith pulled the scrap of muddy paper off the handle and unrolled it. The others watched as he began to frown and his lip curled in anger.

"What's it say?" Driscoll asked.

Keith thrust the paper in to Hunk's hand, casting a glance at the closed door to the examination room. Hunk read the message aloud:

_You are warned._

_No one is safe from the Konogg Brigade._

_He is only the first._

"What?" Pidge asked incredulously. "Who're the Konogg Brigade?"

"Probably those spec ops bastards that've been hitting us lately," said Adam.

Keith had turned his back on the group. To him, the message was clear. The attack on Lance had been a warning. They wanted the Voltron Force to know that they were not afraid to come to the castle itself, something few of Zarkon's agents had attempted in the past. The Konogg Brigade wanted the Voltron Force to believe that even the Castle of Lions was not safe from them.

"Keith, you're not gonna let 'em get away with this, are ya?" Hunk asked.

Keith turned to face him, and was met by a glare that could freeze Hell. Hunk was mad. Downright pissed off, even, and as Keith looked around at the others, he saw similar expressions on their faces.

"We gotta get 'em back for this one, Chief. Now it's personal," Hunk said.

Keith nodded, but before he could say anything else, Dr. Gorma came out of the examination room. When he saw their expectant glances, he smiled. "Lance will be fine. He's got a nasty lump on the back of his head and a few bruises, but nothing serious. He's already awake, but I want him to rest her for a few hours."

"Can we talk to him?" Keith asked, edging toward the door.

Gorma shot him a look, and Driscoll had to choke back a laugh. He'd seen Dr. McCoy give Jim Kirk the same look more than once. _Must be a doctor thing,_ he concluded.

"I believe I just said that Lance was to rest here," Gorma said, ignoring Driscoll's brief outburst. "Is there some part of that you don't understand Commander? Just because you never listen to me doesn't mean the same for others."

Keith knew better than to argue the point with Gorma. He could wait a couple hours to talk to Lance. So he just nodded and led the group out of the infirmary and headed off toward Castle Control. Coran turned to face them as they entered, and Keith told him what Gorma had said. "Has there been anything unusual while we were in the infirmary?"

"No, everything seems fine," Coran replied, looking over his boards again.

"They were in the woods, Coran. Why didn't we know about it?" Keith asked in a growl. To anyone else, it might have seemed like he was accusing Coran of slipping up, but the Force knew better. They were all just as interested as Keith, but he took the commandos' attack on Lance more personally. He and Lance had set up most of the security measures they now had in place, and he wanted to know how the enemy defeated them.

"I don't know, Commander. I've been looking into it ever since you left to find Lance, but all systems are in perfect order. I'm just as confused as you are."

"Maybe…" Driscoll muttered.

Keith turned to look at him. "What is it?"

"Well, I'm no expert on cloaking technology, but these guys can cloak their fighters, and there's a race, the Jem'Hadar, who fight for the Dominion…"

"What's your point?" Keith prodded.

"Jem'Hadar soldiers can cloak themselves. They call it 'shrouding'…" he waved his hands in front of himself. "Point its, they can do it, and maybe these Doomies can do it too."

Keith considered this a moment. Troops that could evade detection were not something he'd heard of before. But then, neither were invisible fighters. And if Haggar was involved in any of this… "So how would we find them?"

"That's the problem. Most tactical means of cloak detection rely on tachyon beams or tracking exhaust particles from a ship's engine. You'd have to talk to Scotty."

Keith nodded, then glanced at Pidge and Hunk. "I think it's time we put our technical wizards together again. It worked pretty well for your ion dart launchers."

"Sure as hell did," Driscoll agreed.

"Okay, then. Let us know when you can arrange to get together with Mr. Scott. Meanwhile, Coran, I think we should double the security for the time being."

Coran nodded. "I agree."

"Princess, take Adam and patrol the area from the air. Maybe you can find something we missed."

Allura nodded. "Right," she said, shooting a look at Adam, who nodded. Coran raised the launch tubes, and Allura ducked into hers while Adam made for the repair bay.

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Outside the castle, Torka and his men were nearing their goal. In this part of the forest, the trees were thinner, and there were scorches and bits of debris on the ground. A few minutes later, they saw their destination.

The fighter, or what was left of it, lay crumpled amongst several half-fallen trees. It's yellow and red paint scorched, and several chunks of its hull missing. As they drew nearer, they could see the clustered holes in the engine and fuselage that had brought the fighter down. Each hole was big enough for the men to put a finger through. This was the mark, Torka knew, not of the Lions, but of _Thunderwing._

This fighter, however, was very important. It had been assigned, not to join in any attack, but to deliver a package to the commandos, who had been waiting on the other side of Olessa several days before when this particular raid struck. And they had watched in dismay as the fighter was engaged and downed by the Starfleet fighter before it reached them.

Picking their way through the wreckage, they came to the small cargo bay of the fighter. It took them a long time to work the doors open, but when they finally succeeded, Torka was relieved to see the cargo still intact.

The red space coffin sat in the cargo bay, thrown against the side bulkhead, but whole and undamaged. A quick check of the monitor panel showed that the coffin's occupant was still alive and well.

The commandos pulled the casket out of the hold and laid it on the ground. This robeast was very special. It was equipped with the same sort of cloaking technology that their fighters had. Even though their own gear hid them from most sensor scans, this robeast could evade any sensor or human eye.

"Shall we release the robeast, Commander?" Razin asked.

"No, not now," was Torka's hasty reply. "Our orders are to place the robeast near a town and we will be signaled when to release it." Torka walked to the head of the casket and bent down, gripping a handle. The other five men followed suit, and the commandos carried the space coffin away.

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Driscoll and Allura returned to the castle later that evening, after finding nothing on their patrol. They had seen no sign of the Konogg brigade, and suggested to Keith that they had abandoned their plans after encountering Lance. Keith just grunted noncommittally and muttered, "Maybe."

Driscoll looked at Keith. "Whatcha thinkin', boss?"

"They were trying to pull something. They wouldn't come all this way just for the fun of it."

"Recon, maybe?"

"Maybe, but why? Zarkon's attacked us so often, they must know all about our defenses, and we've had to deal with more than one agent who's seen plenty from the inside." Keith shook his head and looked up at a security monitor. "Something's up."

"So what should we do, Keith?" Allura asked.

"Unfortunately, Princess, there's not much we can do," Keith said with a sigh.

"We have already added extra guards to all the entrances, and we have patrols out on the grounds," said Coran. "We are doing everything we can at this point."

Allura nodded. "Well, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'd like to stop in and see Lance before I go to bed."

Keith nodded, while Coran and Adam bade her good night, and she left the chamber.

The three men stood in silence for a moment, until Driscoll sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Damn, I'm getting sick of this."

Keith huffed. "You think you're the only one?"

"No, but… Ah, I don't know! There's gotta be something else we can do!"

"If you figure it out, let me know," Keith replied with a weary smile. Just then, Hunk and Pidge walked in carrying a couple of folders filled with reports on the commandos' fighters.

Driscoll glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly time for their meeting with Scotty. Nodding to them, he asked, "Ready?"

"Yep, should have everything we need right here," said Pidge, waving the folder he was carrying.

"Okay, then, let's go." He walked up beside the other pilots and tapped his combadge. "Driscoll to _Berlin_, three to beam up."

Keith watched his friends disappear in the transporter effect and turned back to Coran. "Why don't you get some rest, Coran? I'll take the watch tonight."

Coran nodded. "Very well, then. Good night, Commander," he said, surrendering the console.

"Good night, Coran," Keith replied, settling into the seat and immediately starting a full security scan of the area around the castle. It looked to be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_**A/N:** Well, it looks like my promise to update more often is not going to hold up. Sorry folks, especially Crash77a. Unfortunately, I'm working on my Master's project, and it's turning out to be a bigger ordeal than I expected. _

_RL2: I'm glad you like Commander Torka's character. He's going to prove to not be the average Drule, like Kozal from the base. As far as my preference for Mustangs (The Almighty Spam-Can),I'm a huge fan of Chuck Yeager and (buzz number) B6-Y Glamorous Glen. He may not have been the highest-scoring ace, but kill tallies alone do not a fighter pilot make. And given what he's done, I have to agree with Tom Wolfe, who described Chuck as "The most righteous of all the possessors of the right stuff." BTW, he turns 83 on the 13th, and he's still flying, including P-51's._

_Lillehafrue: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. I think you'll continue to be pleased with what I've got coming up._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 6 

The next morning, practice was called off since Lance was restricted from flying for another day. Instead, Keith called the team into the castle's conference room for a briefing. The night before, Hunk, Pidge, Adam, and Scotty had knocked heads over the problem of the Konogg Brigade's cloaking fighters.

So, after breakfast, the seven people, joined by Coran, gathered in the conference room, eager to share some good news for a change. Captain Driscoll stood up, looking tired but satisfied. "Well, like I told you yesterday, most of the standard techniques for detecting cloaked ships are no good in this case."

"So how do we do it? X-ray goggles?" Lance asked sarcastically.

Keith shot him a sidelong glance as Scotty coolly replied, "No, lad. The answer's turbulence."

"Turbulence?" Keith asked.

Pidge nodded. "Yeah, it's so simple, I don't know why we didn't think of it right away."

Coran nodded, a thin smile pushing the ends of his mustache up. "Yes, I think that just might work."

"Wait, I'm confused," said Allura. "How can air movement help us detect the fighters?"

"Look," said Scotty, his brogue thickening as he prepared for a technical report. "It's a simple rule of physics that no two bits o' matter can occupy the same space a' the same time, agreed?"

Heads nodded.

"Now, cloaked or not," the Highlander continued, "those fighters still have to displace air, or else they could nae move at all. But that air is nae smoothly or evenly displaced."

"What do you mean?" Lance asked.

"Remember back at the Academy, when they taught us about drag on craft in an atmosphere?" said Hunk. "That drag is turbulent air stirred up by a passing aircraft that tugs on the airframe. That's what we gotta look for."

"We've been able to detect them the whole time, and we never knew it," said Pidge as he called up an image on the screen near the head of the table. It was shaded in artificial colors, showing a boxy, black object in its center, surrounded by patterns of blues, yellows, and reds. "This is the turbulence pattern from Black Lion. You can see where the legs and tail cause the most drag."

"Those look like images from the castle's weather sensors," said Coran.

Pidge nodded as he adjusted his glasses. "Yep, exactly. This was recorded yesterday by the wind Doppler we use to track air currents and weather fronts." He changed the image. The next one was ovoid in shape, with three similar vortices stemming from the sides and rear, as well as a cone of turbulence extending from the front.

"That's _Thunderwing_," Driscoll explained. "That was yesterday after Lance got jumped, when Allura and me were on patrol."

"And here's a Stinger," said Hunk. The image changed to a crescent shape, with vortices emanating from the top and bottom, and a column of random turbulence through the center.

"Now look a' yer records from the attack on the airfield," Scotty said as Pidge changed the picture again. This one filled the screen with even, smooth patterns of blue and red. But this pattern was broken by three chaotic patterns near the center. "This was recorded by yer weather instruments just abou' a minute before those beasties decloaked and attacked."

Keith was nodding along the whole time, and now a glint appeared in his eye. A glint that had been missing for a while as they'd fought these uneven odds. Now, things were changing. Now, Keith was getting a plan. "So we can see them, even cloaked?"

"You bet, Chief," said Pidge. "We just had to know what to look for."

"Can we track them back to their base?" Allura asked, catching on to the implications of the system.

"Not unless the base is within the castle's line of sight," Pidge said.

"What about the starships?" Lance asked.

"We had the Captain out all night, tryin' to track his turbulence from the ship," Scotty replied. "Was no use. We kept losing him against the background turbulence above the mountains and forests."

"We're still working on tracking, Keith," said Driscoll. "But at least now we can fight these guys."

Keith nodded. "It's a start, and it's better than sitting around helpless." He glanced at Coran. "How long will it take to tie in the castle's weather sensors to the tactical systems?"

Coran thought a moment, stroking his mustache. "I should think it would be less than a day. I'll get crews on it right away."

"Good. How about the Lions?" he asked, turning to Hunk and Pidge.

The mechanics looked apprehensive. They hated it when Keith asked them for a deadline, especially on something like this. "Well, um, we're not sure," Hunk replied finally.

"The Lions' systems are really complicated," Pidge elaborated. "I suppose we could try bridging the data feeds from the sensor blocks and cross-feed them to the…"

"How _long_?" Keith growled.

"Probably a day or two," Hunk said quickly. "We'll know better after we've done it to one Lion."

"You should start with Black," said Allura. "It's most in tune with the elements of air and space. It would probably be the easiest to modify." Hunk and Pidge nodded their agreement.

"Adam, I'll leave your plane to you, but make sure it's ready when the Lions are."

"Right, boss."

Coran rose from the table, and Keith and the others followed suit. "Well done, everyone," the minister said. "Now perhaps we can stop this enemy."

"Let's get to work," Keith added.

As everyone filed out, Adam caught Allura's elbow and the two remained behind. Coran glanced back, shooting Adam a suspicious look, and the Captain beckoned for him to join them.

"What is it, Adam?" Allura asked after everyone else had gone.

"Remember those pockets of refugees we detected when we were scanning for the Konogg Brigade's base?" Allura nodded, and he continued. "Well, they don't want to come out. I sent an away team to one of them, and they were attacked. Those people thought my guys were working for Zarkon."

Allura knew immediately what Adam was getting at. "Of course. Can you take me to them?"

Adam nodded. "Sure. We can beam right over there."

"Absolutely not, Your Highness," Coran said. "I don't think you should be going anywhere near those people until someone has talked some sense into them. If trained Starfleet officers were repelled by them, then it is far too dangerous for you. It would be far wiser if you would send Keith or one of the others. There is no knowing what dangers you may encounter."

Allura's eyes narrowed as she regarded her counselor. "Coran, they are Arusians, my people, and I have not risked my life and fought against Doom so that I could leave any of my people in some hole. And I will accept any danger I must."

Knowing that arguing with her was futile, and unwilling to have her physically restrained as he had done in times past, he said, "At least take your Lion, then. I'm sure transporting right into their midst would be most ill-advised."

"Coran, I…" Allura started to protest, but Adam cut her off.

"Wait, Allura, Coran's got a good point. Beaming in would probably look more like Haggar's magic than anything else."

"But we need the Lions here. If there's another attack…"

"Okay, then we'll take _Thunderwing_."

Allura nodded, but Coran cleared his throat. "Captain, we _are_ talking about the ruling monarch of Arus. Her safety must come first."

Driscoll nodded. "Of course." With a "forgive me" sort of look, he turned to Allura. "Make sure you suit up, and bring your blaster and emergency transmitter. I'll have the _Berlin_ stand by to beam you aboard at the first sign of trouble."

Allura nodded. "Very well, Captain," she said a bit distantly. "If you'll excuse me," she nodded to Coran and Adam, and left the room.

Coran turned to the Captain. "Her life is in your hands, young man. I would rather you had spoken to me first."

"Coran, thing is, she's right. These are her people. Remember what it was like the guys when they first landed? They damn near got skewered, and now the same thing happened to my guys. Allura's the only one who can get through to those guys, and you know it."

Coran nodded, pleasantly surprised at the logic of the younger man's statement. "Perhaps you're right. This may be the only option at this point."

"I think so." He looked at the older man and saw the concern in his eyes, knowing that he was worrying about Allura. "She'll be fine, Coran. I promise."

"See that she is, Captain," Coran replied, striding from the room. A few minutes later, Allura returned and the two beamed to the _Berlin_ to board _Thunderwing_.

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"Prince Lotor, it is an honor," Commander Kozal said with effectively feigned cordiality, saluting sharply as Lotor strode down the ramp from his ship. Haggar followed a pace behind, stroking her blue cat. They had just arrived on Citrine II to oversee the final preparations for the invasion, and take command when the operation was launched.

"Commander," Lotor acknowledged with a curt nod as Kozal fell into step beside him. As he walked, he glanced around, a fierce scowl plastered to his face as though smelling an offensive odor. "Are your preparations on schedule?"

"They are, My Lord. Two fleets are currently on station, with two more on the way. Total numbers will be 200 ships and 6,000 fighters, as ordered."

Lotor nodded in approval. That much, at least, was going well. "And the raids?"

At this, Kozal paused. "We continue to take heavy losses without any appreciable gain. Frankly, Sire, these raids seem completely pointless."

Lotor whirled around. "You aren't here to be frank, Kozal. You are here to follow orders," he growled. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Most clear, My Lord," Kozal replied, his face an expressionless mask. Lotor had been born into his place and had every opportunity made available to him. He didn't care about the sacrifices he asked of his men, nor did he believe he had any fault when his plans failed. Kozal held Lotor in low regard, bordering on contempt, but knew well enough to keep these feelings to himself.

"As far as the productivity of the raids," Lotor continued, "they seem pointless only because you have not been informed of their true importance."

"What, may I ask, is that?"

"You will know in due time, Commander. Now assemble your officers. We have plans to make."

"As you wish, Sire," Kozal replied with a bow. Whatever Lotor was planning, it must be big. He was assembling what was probably one of the largest invasion fleets on record. Obviously, he intended to take Arus and probably capture Voltron. That alone would probably cost many ships. And if that were the case, Kozal wanted no part of it.

He also decided he wouldn't mention the visit from _Thunderwing_, either. Nothing had come of it, and there was really no point. The fighter had not seen the bulk of the forces on Citrine II, and so the Alliance probably had little idea of their plans.

As he headed into the main fortress to gather the fleet officers for Lotor's meeting, he couldn't help but wonder why so much firepower was being brought to bear on a single planet. Surely, a few robots and a bunch of punk kids couldn't be that difficult to overcome.

Could they?

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While Kozal and his officers discussed battle plans with Lotor, another meeting was taking place in a distant corner of the complex, in the slave quarters.

"Are you certain, Kala?" Neal asked. He led the workers in one of the sectors of the slave complex, and was in charge of local resistance activity, which often included sabotage and staged disputes among the slaves to disrupt production.

The young, dark-haired girl in front of him nodded. "Yes. The watch officer clearly ordered another hundred berths readied, and for serviced fighters to be returned to their mother ships."

Neal nodded his straw-haired head, a calculating look in his hazel eyes. "Then whatever they're up to, we don't have much time to act."

"You'll ask Michael?" Kala asked.

Neal caught the slight waver in her voice. He knew she had never been comfortable with how instrumental her brother had become in the resistance, but there was no choice. "He's my best man, Kala. And he's the only one who can pull it off."

Kala nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you, Kala, you've done well. Now you should return to your place before you're missed."

Kala turned and left the chamber. A moment later, Neal followed and returned to his own work station. On the way, he passed Michael and dropped a bolt with a nut on it next to him. Michael glanced at it and nodded without looking at Neal. It was a signal that a round of sabotage was being planned, and there would be a meeting after their shift was over.

Michael watched from the corner of his eye until Neal became lost in the crowd. He'd heard rumors that there was a large buildup at the base, and the number of ships he'd seen coming through seemed to lend credence to it. So he had a hunch about what Neal was thinking.

"You!" a passing guard shouted. "Stop daydreaming and get back to work!"

Michael said nothing and returned to his task, kicking the bolt under his workstation. _Enjoy it while you can, you blue bastard. Yours is coming_, he thought. And with any luck, it would be very soon.

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With a roar, _Thunderwing_'s Neo-Merlin engine came to life and the aircraft came out of its re-entry dive and leveled off. "You okay back there, Ally?" Adam asked.

"Just fine, Dinoman," she replied, addressing the Captain by his callsign. "Where are we?"

Smiling, Driscoll replied in his best, Yeager-esque voice, "Angels 45 and descending, about thirty miles south of our mark. Should be there and on the ground in about fifteen minutes, little lady."

Allura laughed under her breath as she nodded and turned her attention to the outside of the fighter, where clouds seemed to fly upwards as the fighter made its way down. Looking around the slab of armor plate behind Driscoll's seat, Allura could see the area they were heading for. It was a low mountain range, scarred by glaciation and water runoff. It would be an ideal place to hide, but not so ideal to land.

Driscoll circled the area and they dropped down to about two thousand feet before Driscoll lined up on their final destination, a gently-sloping clearing in the mountainside forest. "Dead ahead now, five miles," he said.

"Let's circle a few times before we land so they don't think we're attacking," said Allura.

"Roger."

Driscoll slowed the plane as they approached and banked over into a wide right turn. Allura looked down at the clearing and saw several people looking up from the edge of the trees. She waved to them as the Mustang came around and they were lost from view.

After three passes, Adam rolled out of the turn and swung around, cutting in his thrusters and antigravs for a vertical landing, since the clearing was nowhere near long enough for a conventional approach.

Coming in low and very slow, _Thunderwing _dropped to fifteen feet, the landing gear came down, and the P-51 settled into the grass.

Driscoll and Allura slowly unbuckled themselves, then Driscoll turned to face the Princess. "If this goes south, you use that transponder, okay? Don't worry about me or the plane."

"Adam, we'll be fine," Allura replied, slightly annoyed.

"Probably, but these guys are scared and could be hard to predict. I just want you to be as safe as possible."

"Yes, _Keith_," Allura shot back.

Driscoll scowled. "Oooh, you gonna pay for that."

Allura smiled, "You can try, Captain."

Adam didn't reply. Slowly, he cranked the canopy back and climbed out, helping Allura do the same. They jumped down from the wing, and headed toward the small group of people they saw at one end of the clearing. Despite the glint of spears and knives, Allura pushed past Adam to take the lead, ignoring the sideways glance he leveled at her. He really wished she wouldn't be so brazen all the time, but at the same time, he couldn't help but admire her guts.

The two stopped twenty feet from the trees and Allura called out, "There is no reason to be afraid. I am Princess Allura. I've come to tell you that Zarkon is gone, and Arus is ours again."

There was a long silence, then Allura heard a murmur coming from the group ahead. Finally, a man wearing an official-looking uniform spoke up. "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

"Who are you?" Driscoll challenged.

"Major Kennet, Arusian Police Agency. I'm in charge around here," the man replied, stepping away from the trees toward the pair. He looked back at the other refugees. "We've seen other ships in the sky. Zarkon's ships. And him," he pointed to Driscoll, "he wears the same uniform as the others who attacked us yesterday."

"They didn't attack you," Allura replied. "They were trying to find you and tell you that it is safe to return to your homes."

"Who are they, then? Those aren't Arusian or Alliance uniforms."

"My name is Captain Adam C. Driscoll, commanding officer of the U.S.S. _Berlin_, a Federation starship assigned to help protect this planet and help the Alliance fight Zarkon. Those were my men."

Kennet eyed him suspiciously. "Perhaps. But what proof do we have?"

"The word of your Princess is not enough?" Driscoll growled.

"And how do we know she isn't a look-alike, or under Zarkon's control?"

"This is ridiculous, Kennet," someone said behind him.

"Is it? Is it ridiculous that we've survived Zarkon so far? Is it ridiculous to want to remain free?"

"No, it's not," Allura said, trying to defuse the situation before tempers escalated. "Major Kennet, I'd like to speak to all of the people. Let them decide. If you choose to remain here in hiding, we will not force you to leave. But this is a decision that everyone should make for themselves."

Kennet considered Allura's words for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Follow us."

The refugees closed in around Allura and Adam, and led them away into the forest.

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It was two long, exhausting hours before either of them saw _Thunderwing_ again. The lengthening shadows had darkened the clearing where the fighter was parked, and Adam and Allura hurried over, eager to get back to the Castle of Lions.

When they left the refugees' camp, there had still been pockets of argument over whether or not to come out of hiding. But most of the refugees agreed that it was time to come out of hiding and go home. Allura had promised to send word as soon as arrangements could be made, and Adam had told them to expect another visit from his crew, bringing supplies and equipment.

They climbed up onto the wing and Adam pulled the canopy back, but instead of climbing in, he motioned Allura to the front seat. "Why don't you take the scenic chair? I'm gonna brush up on my instrument flying."

Allura was a bit confused. "But there aren't any instruments in back," she said.

Adam winked at her. "Trust me."

So they climbed into the cockpit, and put on their helmets. "Roll up the canopy, would you, Ally?"

Allura nodded and cranked the canopy closed as she heard Adam say, "Computer, activate jumpseat controls and instrumentation, authorization Driscoll-papa-five-one-delta." A few seconds later, she heard a series of beeps and chirps, followed by the hushed whir and buzz of equipment coming on. She watched the main instrument panel as lights came on and needles moved on gauges.

Anticipating Allura's question, Adam explained. "Holographic controls back here, like what I use for flying in space. Just try not to mess with your controls, because they still work."

Allura nodded as the engine turned over and a moment later, they were headed up and away.

Flying at Mach 10 and using a parabolic flight path, Adam and Allura made good time getting back to the Castle of Lions. They dropped down to 15,000 feet about seventy miles from the castle, which was still in twilight.

During the whole flight, Allura had been watching the controls and instruments as much as she had the world outside the plane. Despite the confusing number of switches, buttons, dials, and gauges, the aircraft didn't seem as tough to fly as she thought it might be. In fact, there were a number of similarities to her own Lion.

Adam had noticed her perusing the instruments, and an idea began to form in his head. "Hey, Allura, can you take over for a second? I need to check something."

Allura was surprised. He'd never let anybody fly _Thunderwing_ before. He'd even told her and Keith he never would. Why not just use the autopilot? "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. Just put your feet on the pedals, hold the stick with your right hand, and keep your left on the throttle." He leaned around the seat and watched as she positioned herself on the controls. "No, no, the long, silver one," he corrected as Allura clutched the prop pitch control. "Good. Now just hold her steady."

Allura heard Adam moving around behind her as she looked ahead through the gunsight. Her instincts took over as she held the plane straight and level, making minor adjustments for wind gusts.

She found she liked the way the plane felt. It was much lighter and easier handling than Blue Lion, but at the same time, there was something vaguely familiar about it. Something like her Lion, yet somehow not.

After a few minutes, Adam spoke up again. "Okay, Allura, I've got it. Thanks." Allura released the controls and felt the slight sway as the plane drifted a moment before Adam corrected.

As Adam set up to land the fighter, she thought about their conversation the night before, how the phenomenon Adam felt was like what she felt with the Lions. She had felt something, too, but wasn't sure what it was. The whole thing puzzled her, and she decided she'd have to spend some time in the archives.

But that thought was banished from her mind as, no sooner had _Thunderwing_ set down in the castle's launch bay than the alarms rang out. Allura leapt from the cockpit without a word, dashing for the control room, while Adam quickly took the front seat, turned the plane, and flew off again. To the northeast, he could see the orange glow of fires near the harbor town of Shavena.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, the Drules and slaves that aren't from the series, and the story itself._

_Lille, RL2, thanks for the reviews. I always look forward to your feedback. _

_Crash, you'll be pleased to know that I revised chapter 6. Sorry about the mistakes. And your nitpicks are always welcome. Helps keep me sharp. As far as where I get all the scientific and technological stuff, well, it's what I do. I'm a technology teacher (without a full time position yet, unfortunately), so I know a little about these things. I'm glad to hear others find it interesting._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 7 

Allura burst into the Control Room at a run. As she expected, she was the last to arrive. Keith nodded to her as Coran explained, "We are getting reports of explosions and fires in the harbor town of Shavena."

"Adam's already on the way," Allura said.

"Have there been any reports of fighters?" Keith asked.

"No. It would appear that the Konogg Brigade has mounted another commando operation."

Keith nodded, his jaw clenched in anger. Turning to Pidge, he said, "Get up there and see if you can find anything. Adam can cover you while you scan."

"Right, Chief," the boy replied as he leaped into his launch tube.

As Pidge lifted off and headed for Shavena, Adam called in. "Thunderwing_ to Castle Control._"

"Go ahead, Captain," said Coran.

Adam's image appeared on the main viewer. He was looking off to the side of the plane, his face reflecting the firelight below. "I've got fires in the main harbor area. Four ships… no, five. All burning. Fires are spreading to the docks and support buildings."

"No!" Allura blurted. "Keith, that's all that's left of the Naval Defense Force!"

"Any sign of commandos on the ground?" Keith asked.

"Negative. It's hard to tell with everyone running around down there, but I doubt they'd have stuck around, anyway."

Keith nodded. "Okay, Adam. Pidge is on his way. Cover him while he takes a look around."

"Copy that. Out."

Allura watched on the screen as the images from _Thunderwing_'s sensors were transmitted back. "Keith, I'm going out there."

"There's no point, Allura. If Pidge finds something, then we'll all go."

"Blue Lion's water cannon can help with the fires," Allura reminded him. Seeing his stone-faced indecision, she huffed in exasperation. "Keith, spraying water on fires is about the safest flying assignment I could ask for."

"She's got a point, Keith," said Lance. "And from the looks of things, they could probably use the extra firepower. Well, water-power."

Keith thought it over a moment, and then nodded. "Okay, Princess, go ahead. Lance, you go with her. Hunk and I will stay here in case you need us."

Allura smiled as she and Lance headed for their launch tubes.

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As Lance and Allura raced toward Shavena, Pidge and Adam were scanning the fields and woods around the town for any sign of the Konogg Brigade.

"I don't think we're going to find anything," said Pidge.

"Me either, shorty," Driscoll replied. He looked around and paused a moment to watch the fires burning in the harbor. The flames were so bright on the cruisers that the water itself seemed to burn.

The water…

That was it! All that damage was done in areas adjacent to the water, which meant that if the Konogg Brigade was anywhere around here…

"Pidge! We're looking in the wrong place. We need to scan the coastline."

"Are you sure? What if…"

"Pidge, if they're down there, we can't see 'em anyway. What have we got to lose?"

Pidge shrugged. "Okay. I guess we might as well try."

The two craft angled off toward the coast and split up. Pidge ran north, while Adam ran south, both sweeping in circular patterns.

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"Lieutenant! Enemy craft approaching," the sensor operator reported.

"Identify," Lt. Razin ordered.

"Two contacts. One is Green Lion, the other appears to be the Starfleet fighter. They are executing a sweep. At their current rate of progress, they'll be over us in six minutes."

Razin nodded. Their time was nearly up, but their mission was not yet completed. Once more, Razin cursed Commander Torka for not allowing him to finish the Voltron Force in the woods.

He checked another display, and saw that the ships in the harbor, though burning, seemed to be relatively stable. Their mission had been to sink those five ships. Razin estimated that one more round of torpedoes would finish them.

"Gunner," he said, "prepare a spread of torpedoes. Your targets are the cruisers in the harbor. Fire on my mark."

"Yes, sir," the gunner replied.

"Stand by…"

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Adam and Pidge were circling low over the water, looking for any sign of the commandos. Allura and Lance had by now arrived at the harbor, and were assisting the fire crews as best they could in the chaos.

As Pidge scanned the water below, he saw a number of pale, glowing streaks moving toward the harbor at an alarming rate. "Hey, guys, heads up!" he called. "There's something headed for the harbor."

Adam looked around and saw the streaks, too. "Torpedoes in the water! Clear the docks now!" He pulled the Mustang into a tight turn, switching on his guns and sight. "Pidge, Allura, Lance, try to shoot those things before they hit the docks."

Adam rushed in, phasers blazing, but all his weapons did was vaporize the water above the torpedoes. "Damn, they're too deep for phasers. Use missiles," he said.

Seconds later, Pidge announced, "Space torpedoes!" as the launcher appeared on Green Lion's back and the compact projectiles shot toward the torpedoes in the water. The attack destroyed three and knocked two others off course.

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While the Voltron Force tried to stop the torpedoes, Razin was watching them and grinning. It would only be a few moments now…

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Lance's lip contorted into a snarl as the torpedoes that they hadn't caught up with struck the already damaged ships and docks. Two of the cruisers were blown in two, while the others slowly rolled onto their sides, one falling onto the dock beside it. Other torpedoes hit the piles of the docks, collapsing whole sections into the water. People and debris were thrown everywhere by the explosions.

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Razin grinned as he watched the destruction unfold. The Voltron Force was milling around, no doubt watching the fireworks display he'd put on for them.

Razin badly wanted to order a missile volley fired at the Lions, but decided against it. Even if he was successful, his orders were specific: Do not engage the Voltron Force. And Commander Torka was far more demanding of discipline than rewarding of success. "Return to base," he ordered. "Maximum depth."

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"If those torpedoes came straight in," said Lance, "whoever fired 'em should be this way." Everyone formed up around Lance as he led them out to sea, looking for whatever was responsible for the destruction of Shavena harbor.

But after half an hour of searching mile after mile of empty sea, the Voltron Force returned to the port. The attackers had escaped again, but there were still plenty of fires to fight. Keith and Hunk had already arrived by the time the others got there, and Black Lion's pilot wasted no time in organizing the team.

"Allura, Hunk, start working on the center area of the docks. Create a lane so that they can get fire equipment to the ships. Lance, you and I will evacuate the injured and anyone trapped in the fires. Pidge, you start sweeping the harbor and get people out of the water. Adam, get upstairs. I want you up top helping us coordinate and covering us in case those fighters show up."

Without a word, the team went to work. Smoke and flame reduced visibility to zero within half a mile of the docks. Flying on instruments alone, and Adam's direction, Allura and Hunk made pass after pass over the intact sections of the piers, spraying water and dumping wet sand dredged from the harbor floor.

For their part, Keith and Lance circled low through the murk, following their sensors to areas where people were trapped by the inferno, pulling out as many people as could climb into their cargo bays, and the mouths and legs of the Lions. The townspeople established an impromptu triage center in the town square, while others joined in to help quench the blazes, right down to passing buckets of water.

Aboard the ships and on the docks, people got ahold of communications gear and helped direct the Lions' efforts, while every boat of any size was mustered to help douse flames, rescue victims in the water, and carry injured people to safety.

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As the sun rose over Shavena, the Voltron Force and the townspeople finally had the fires under control. Many areas were still blazing, but the fires were no longer spreading. During the night, people from other villages, including a detachment of Starfleet engineers from Olessa, came to help. A cloud of smoke still hung over the town, extending thousands of feet into the sky as the Voltron Force formed up and prepared to head home. As they flew over the docks, the extent of the damage left them speechless.

Shavena harbor, which was small to begin with, had been effectively destroyed. The five cruisers, the parts of them still above water, anyway, were charred and gutted by fire. Smoke still rose from them and from the burned out hulks of dockside buildings. The piers themselves were gone, only the piles remaining above water. For hundreds of yards in any direction, buildings were damaged by smoke and flame, and some continued to smolder. A film of ash, lubricant, and debris floated on the water. And bodies. Dozens of bodies, sailors and civilians alike, floated amongst the detritus on the water's surface. It was the most grisly scene of destruction the Voltron Force had ever beheld.

"My God, there's nothing left," Adam murmured. He wondered just how many ships had attacked that night.

The others merely continued to circle the area, unable to find any words to communicate what they were feeling. Their expressions ranged from tears to angry scowls.

Finally, Keith said, "There's nothing more we can do here. Let's go home." The others fell into formation, and the Voltron Force returned to the Castle of Lions.

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While the Voltron Force was fighting the fires in Shavena, another fire was blazing on Citrine II.

"You want to _what_?" Kozal demanded.

"You heard me, Kozal," said Lotor. "Why do you think I've summoned _four fleets_?"

"Those ships will never make it past Voltron and the starships!" Kozal shot back. "You're handing a death sentence to every man you send!"

Lotor was furious. Never had one of his commanders ever dared to question him so openly. "How dare you presume to speak to me that way?" he said. "You will follow you orders, Kozal, or so help me, I will throw you into the Pit of Skulls myself! Those ships will be ready to move _on schedule_. No excuses. Do I make my self clear, Commander?"

Kozal leapt to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table so hard, the other side jumped up. The other commanders looked at him in alarm, more than a few believing that he was about to attack Lotor.

But he had no choice. If he didn't obey, Lotor would simply have him replaced with someone who would. One way or another, Lotor would have his way.

So, with a conscious effort, he controlled his temper and simply nodded. "As you command," he said, not making eye contact with Lotor.

"That's more like it," Lotor replied with a sneer. "Now go, all of you," he said, looking at the assembled fleet and fighter commanders. As they filed out of the room, Lotor and Kozal stared at each other until the Commander disappeared from sight.

_The fool_, Lotor mused. _Challenging me in front of my command. How dare he?_ But Lotor, indignant though he was, couldn't help but acknowledge that Kozal knew his business. He was the type of man who could be a valuable ally, and a dangerous enemy. His men loved him, perhaps too much. And that could be very dangerous. Kozal would have to be reined in, and if he resisted, there was only one alternative.

"Kozal does not believe the invasion will succeed," said Haggar, coming forward from the shadows.

Lotor grunted.

"You would be wise to seek his counsel, rather than forcing your will on him," the witch advised. "His experience would be an asset. That is why your father assigned him to this base."

"Kozal is a fool who has outlived his usefulness," Lotor replied. "I am perfectly capable of carrying out my father's plans."

"And you have such an exemplary record already," Haggar replied sarcastically.

"Silence, witch!" Lotor commanded, eliciting a yowl from the blue cat at Haggar's feet. But still, he knew Kozal was right. If Voltron teamed up with the starships, it was unlikely enough of his own force would survive to reach the target for the invasion to be successful.

But then, not all of his invasion assets were on Citrine II.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_Yes, dear friends, I'm back. My master's project is finished, and I graduate May 6. I've got this and two more chapters written in a notebook, and I hope to do some more posts within the next week or so. As always, thanks for the great reviews._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 8 

After their ordeal at Shavena, The Voltron Force returned to the Castle of Lions tired and shaken. Most of them headed for bed, but Keith was restless. He sat down at his desk, his mind whirling in confusion. This attack didn't make sense. Until now, the Konogg Brigade had operated in conjunction with attacks from space. Also, they'd struck almost exclusively around the Starfleet engineers in Olessa. The raid on Shavena was the first time the Konogg Brigade had hit militarily significant targets. The attack simply didn't fit with anything they'd done before.

But what did it mean? What was the point of changing their tactics? Maybe they knew the Voltron Force could track their fighters. No, that wasn't likely. Perhaps they'd realized that there was nothing in Olessa of any military value, and were going after a better target.

Or maybe the Doom commander realized that they were expecting attacks on Olessa, and wanted to throw them a curveball. It was exactly the sort of move Keith should have anticipated, because it was exactly what he'd have done in the same situation.

He growled in frustration. He had to admit that whoever was in charge of the Konogg Brigade was good. Even after the attack on Shavena, he'd escaped without leaving a clue about where to. Once again, the Voltron Force had no way to counter the attacks.

But there was something gnawing at the back of his mind about all this. Something ominous. Why target supply and infrastructure, then switch to military targets? Why switch from relatively strategic targets, to the obviously tactical?

Keith could only find one answer, and he didn't like it.

His door chime broke his train of thought. Wearily, he rose to his feet and answered the door.

Lance looked back at him from the hallway. "You're doing it again, Cap."

"And what's that?"

"Beating yourself over the head trying to figure out their next move," Lance replied, stepping into the room. "Face it, Keith, you just can't predict these guys. They hammered us every day for weeks, then we get a few days off, and now half a town's gone. How could you have expected that?"

Keith rubbed his eyes and sighed. Trudging over to his desk, he turned the chair to face Lance and flipped down. "I should have known _something_ was up."

"Okay, maybe. But how could you have known about this? How were we supposed to know they had a submarine? Hell, Keith, until now, we didn't know Lotor even _used_ subs."

Keith didn't answer. Lance was right, he knew, but still, there had to be something he could have done. Something he could do now.

"Keith, remember we don't have a whole lot to work with. This isn't Earth. This is a planet that the Drules devastated, and is just starting to rebuild. In the meantime…"

"We have to do the best we can with what we have," Keith finished. That was it. They were doing the best they could, but there was just no way to prepare for every possibility.

He nodded, then got up and walked over to Lance. "You're right."

Lance nodded, smiling smugly. "Of course I am."

"Don't let it go to your head," Keith chided lightly. "If it swells any more, you'll never fit it into Red's cockpit."

Lance looked at him sideways, "_Et tu_, Keith?"

"Darn straight. Now get outta here. I've got work to do."

Lance headed for the door. "Don't work too hard. You're grouchy enough at practice as it is." He ducked out the door and was gone before Keith could reply.

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The next morning confirmed to the Voltron Force that their respite was over. As morning twilight began to spread across the land, the Castle alarms went off, summoning the five pilots to the Control Room.

"What's happening, Coran?" Keith asked as he ran into the chamber. The others were seconds behind him.

"Enemy fighters are attacking Olessa," Coran replied. "I'm tracking their turbulence patterns, and there appear to be four of them"

Keith turned to Hunk and Pidge. "How far did you get on the modifications?"

"Black's done, but we haven't had time to test it," Pidge replied.

"Well, it's about to get tested." He took in the others with a sweeping glance. "Lance, Hunk, Pidge, come with me. Allura, stand by in case they launch another attack somewhere else." He turned to Coran. "Is Adam coming?"

"Not yet," Coran replied.

"If he calls in, tell him to orbit over the castle in case we need Allura."

Allura cast an angry glance at Keith as she crossed her arms in an all-too-familiar gesture of frustration. Still, she had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Keith's plan made sense.

Moments later, the boys were gone, and the four Lions were streaking toward Olessa.

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But Allura wasn't the only one watching the Lions depart. From the still-dark forest near the castle, Commander Torka watched the Lions fly off.

Soundlessly, he motioned his troops forward, and the small group of commandos headed for the Castle of Lions.

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On the way to Olessa, Keith turned on and checked his new sensors, and was relieved to see four dots on his screen where localized heavy turbulence indicated the presence of the fighters. At least they would be able to see their enemies this time.

"Guys, I'm going to send you my sensor feeds, so you can see 'em too. Remember all positions are relative to me, so stay close."

"Right," said Hunk.

"Okay, Chief," said Pidge.

"Got it," Lance replied.

A fighter decloaked right in front of the Lions and began a strafing run on the village. Two houses were burst into flames as the fighters' lasers tore into them. Hunk and Pidge fired at the fighter as it cloaked, but scored no hits.

Keith looked at his sensors. The fighter was pulling around in a hard turn, low over the rooftops. The other three appeared to be setting up attack runs.

Keith was about to order Lance, Pidge, and Hunk to go after the three preparing their attacks, when they suddenly broke off, making for the outskirts of Olessa.

Keith pulled Black Lion into a loose turn toward them. He didn't want to reveal yet that they could see through the cloaks.

"Keith, behind you!" Lance warned. Keith looked at his sensors and saw that the first fighter had unmasked and was coming at him from behind, above and to the left. He turned hard, trying to evade as Red Lion swooped in, ramming the fighter as it pulled up to avoid colliding with Keith.

The damaged fighter tumbled away for a few seconds before righting itself and turning back toward the Voltron Force.

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Razin shook his head as his ship came out of its tumble. He knew his cloak was gone, and he didn't dare return to base without it. He turned toward Black Lion as a fatalistic attitude possessed him. He was a dead man, but if he had to go, he wasn't going alone.

Ramming his throttle to maximum, he charged directly at Black Lion, his shrill battle cry splitting the air in the cabin.

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"Look out, Keith!" Pidge shouted, seeing the fighter launch its _kamikaze_ attack.

Keith stood his ground as the smoking craft approached. _Closer, _he thought, _closer… Now_!

He pulled hard on the control yokes, prompting Black Lion into a leap skyward. The fighter passed just inches below him as the Lion whirled and struck, its great steel fangs closing on the upper fin, crushing it and ripping the laser cannon away. Black tossed his head violently, sending the doomed fighter up and away. It tumbled once, twice, and exploded as it plowed into the ground.

Lance grinned. "Score one for us!"

"Keith, the others are running," said Pidge.

Before Keith could answer, Coran's voice cut across the comm. "_Voltron Force, return to the… Argh_!"

"Coran? Coran?" Keith called. No reply. "Guys, let the fighters go. Everyone back to the castle, now!"

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It took only a few minutes for the pilots to land their Lions and return to the Control Room. When they got there, Coran was jut coming to. One set of heavy blast doors was caved in and hanging from its track, and there were scorch marks on the floor and laser burns in the walls and on the center console.

"Coran, can you hear me?"

Coran looked around groggily, and nodded. "Yes, Commander."

"What happened?" Keith asked, helping the old advisor to his feet.

Coran shook his head. "I don't know. We were watching you, then there was an explosion. Drules…"

"The Princess!" Keith blurted. "Coran, where's the Princess?"

"They took her. The commandos, they came in and took her."

Keith leapt to the control console. "Castle Control calling _Starship Berlin_. Priority-one emergency. Come in, over."

"Keith, what's wrong?" Adam asked as his face appeared on the big main screen. "Where's the Princess?"

"Gone. The Konogg Brigade just raided the castle. They took her."

"_En route_," Driscoll replied, and the communication cut.

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Aboard the starship, Captain Driscoll bolted from his command chair. "Mike, move the ship into geosynchronous orbit over the castle. Mordock, begin scanning for a group of humanoids heading away from the castle."

Driscoll's orders were obeyed without a word as Driscoll himself headed for the turbolift. Gredar hadn't arrived yet, so Driscoll turned back to Mordock. "Turn the scan over to your relief, Lieutenant. You have the bridge."

Mordock nodded and moved to the command chair as an ensign moved from an auxiliary console to the science station.

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The Starfleeters and the Voltron Force searched for hours from land, air, and space, but found no trace of Allura or the commandos. The only clue was a turbulence signature recorded by the castle's sensors heading east, toward Shavena. But it eventually disappeared below the horizon, and Keith's attempts to find it again with Black Lion met with no success.

Keith now knew his suspicions were right. The invasion was imminent.

Lotor wouldn't want Allura harmed, but he would want to collect her quickly after the battle, so he sent his commandos after her. Now, not only did he have Allura, Voltron was out of the picture.

The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place, and for once, Keith wished they hadn't.

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On Citrine II, a lone, hooded figure stole through alleys and shadows in the slave quarters. It was past curfew for his work shift, and the guards would be most suspicious and unforgiving if they caught him. Of course, they'd be right. Tonight, he'd been up to all kinds of no good, from the Doom point of view.

Reaching his destination, Michael quickly slid through the door and into a darkened room, bolting it behind him. He pulled his hood back as a light came on, casting a dull illumination over the room. Neal approached him, asking, "Is it done?"

"As done as it's going to be," Michael replied. "We've rigged all the ships carrying Doom tanks and a few of the troop carriers."

"Where'd you rig them?"

"Base of the command towers, at the control trunks. One good hit and the charges blow, and they'll wipe out the main command systems."

Neal nodded and clapped his protégé in the back. "Good work, Michael. Very good."

Michael nodded, smiling, and said, "Now all we have to do is tell someone." He saw the strained look on Neal's face. "What is it?"

"They found Eolan this morning. He's been taken, and the communication building had been locked down. No slaves in or out."

Eolan had been their only connection to the outside world, relaying intelligence back to the Alliance as opportunities arose. It was seldom very much, but they hoped it would somehow be useful. They had been depending on him to send a message telling the Alliance where and how to hit the invasion force.

"So what do we do now?" Michael asked. But even as he did, he knew the answer.

"Someone has to fly to Arus and tell the Voltron Force. If they even exist." They, like most slaves on Doom-occupied worlds, had heard rumors of the return of the great warrior, mostly in snippets of overheard conversations between local guards. The Doom forces kept a tight lid on any Voltron-related information, but the slaves still held out hope. Hope that was reinforced every time they heard the guards mention that name. "Arus is the nearest free world, regardless, and that fighter that flew over you had to have come from there. Someone out there knows we're here. But we have to tell them what Lotor's up to. As long as that fleet's a threat, they won't come for us."

Michael nodded. "Who goes?"

Neal was silent for a long moment. He knew how Michael would react to his next statement, but he had to lay it out. "Michael, you're the only one I'd trust. You're the only man we have who's worked with the fighters."

Michael held up his hand. "No, wait. Wait a minute." He paused. "Neal, I've never turned you down before, but I can't do this. It's crazy. I'm not a pilot, and I can't leave Kala. I'm all she's got left. You know I'd do anything to help free our people, but this is too much."

Neal shook his head. "I'm sorry, Michael, but you have to go. If not you, then nobody can. And all our hopes, and everything we've done, will be for nothing."

Michael was torn. He knew how important the mission was, but he couldn't just leave his sister. Especially when he was missed at his shift, she'd be the first one they'd come down on. He couldn't let that happen.

"Neal, the only way I'm going is if I can take Kala with me."

"Michael…" Neal protested.

"Neal, that's it. Both or neither, take your pick."

Neal just stood there, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he nodded. "All right, Michael, if you can get her into the fighter with you, she can go."

Michael nodded. "All right, then. Now, how exactly do you plan on getting us into a fighter?"

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Driscoll sat in his ready room aboard the _Berlin_, watching the stars drift by as his ship orbited Arus. He was waiting for his fighter to be refueled before he went out again to search for Allura with the others. All day, he'd only been aboard for his duty shifts, and now to refuel.

Allura had been missing for the better part of a day, and the Voltron Force was making a maximum effort to locate her, with assistance from the starship's powerful sensor arrays, while the _Timberwolf_ was left to guard the starbase.

The door chime rang and Driscoll turned to face the door. "Enter," he said. The door swished open, revealing the portly form of Captain Scott.

"Scotty," Driscoll acknowledged with a nod.

"You wanted t' see me, sir?"

"Yeah, Scotty, I did," the teenage Captain replied. "You know about Allura, right?"

"Aye, I heard. Sorry, lad."

"We've gotta find her, man. Without Allura, there's no Voltron, and the next robeast that comes along… They took her to their base, Scotty, and we've gotta find it. I need you to find a way to track these sons 'a bitches without depending on turbulence wakes."

Scotty nodded. "Aye, sir. Will ya be sendin' me those friends 'a yours then?"

"Not this time. We need a miracle, here, and you're the only bona-fide miracle worker we have."

Scott nodded. "Aye, sir. I'll get righ' on it."

Driscoll smiled. "Thanks, Scotty. I owe ya."

The engineer grunted. "Keep up like this, and yer tab'll be as big as Captain Kirk's."

"Oh, I've got a long way to go to match Jim."

Scott just shook his head and walked out.

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Commander Kozal watched another fighter squadron take off for a raid on Arus from the command center in the fortress. Every fighter on this mission carried lazon missiles. Regrettably, they were not topaz-enriched. Lotor had other plans for those munitions.

Among the gaggle of a hundred fighters that took off from Fighter Base Four, nearest the slave sectors, nobody noticed an extra fighter tagging along behind the others. Had anyone scanned it, they would have seen not one but two people in the cramped cockpit.

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Michael had been surprised at how easy it was to steal a fighter. There were so many on the tarmac that the crews and guards had difficulty keeping an eye on all of them. That, combined with the number of slaves forced to help prepare them for combat, allowed Michael and his sister Kala to sneak onto one of the parked craft.

There was a helmet and flight suit stored in it, indicating that the fighter hadn't yet been assigned to a specific pilot. He quickly put it on.

Getting on the fighter and looking like a pilot was one thing, but _flying_ it was another. Michael spent most of the next half-hour studying the cockpit. He knew what some of the controls were already, but others took some figuring out. Finally, he was satisfied that he could at least get the ship airborne and off to Arus without blowing it up. Now all he had to do was get off the ground and get away.

Luckily, Neal's intelligence had been right on the money. Maybe twenty more minutes passed when one of the handlers came by and, seeing the occupied fighter, started giving Michael taxiing instructions. Not wanting to blow his cover, Michael complied, and was soon out of the maintenance area and in position for takeoff. He followed the rest of the squadron into the sky as he muttered, "Here we go, Kala. Stay down and hold on."

"Okay."

Now all he had to do was figure out how to land safely on Arus in an enemy fighter without getting himself and his sister killed in the process.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_**A/N: **Yeah, I know, I said I'd update more often now that I'd finished school, and I'm trying, but you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice… (and men. Well, no, actually they have nothing to do with it. Ah! No! Wrong story!) Anyway, here we go._

_Thanks to Lillehafrue for reviewing, it helps keep me motivated. And hey, Crash, Cornholio, RL2, where are you guys?_

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 9 

The red alert klaxons blared aboard the _Berlin_, calling her crew to battle stations. As he jogged off the turbolift, Driscoll shouted, "Report!"

"Enemy fighter squadron inbound," Jacobs replied, surrendering the command chair to the Captain. Gredar arrived a moment later, and took his seat to Driscoll's right.

"Visual range, Captain," said Mordock.

"Onscreen."

Lt. Curtis gave a surprised whistle as the viewer came on, showing a mass of small objects headed straight for the _Berlin_.

"Curtis, close with the starbase. T.J., tell _Timberwolf _to stand by to engage capital ships."

Two "aye, sirs" were the only reply as the _Berlin_ came around to defend the starbase.

As the _Berlin_ moved into position at the starbase, the _Timberwolf_ made an attack run on the fighters, taking out over a dozen with its phaser cannons as it passed down the left side of the formation.

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Michael jerked the fighter aside just in time as one of _Timberwolf_'s phaser shots went right through the place he'd just been, missing them by inches and destroying the fighter just behind him.

Kala whimpered, seeing the flash and feeling the concussion from the exploding fighter rock their own craft.

"It's okay, Kala," Michael reassured her. "Just hang on." He slipped the fighter back into formation and continued on. If he was going to make it past the starships, he'd have to time his break just right…

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"Lazon missiles!" Mordock warned. "Captain, those fighters are carrying lazon missiles."

"How many?"

"All of them," Mordock replied.

"Shit," Driscoll muttered, glaring at the approaching fighters. That was more than enough firepower to put some serious hurt the starship. "T.J., prepare a spread of torpedoes."

"Proximity?"

"Damn straight, Commander," Driscoll replied.

Jacobs entered the commands on her board. "Torpedoes ready."

Driscoll watched the fighters closing in. _Almost there…_

"Torpedo range."

"Fire!"

The torpedoes shot from their tubes, forming a hexagonal pattern, angled toward the top. Still, the fighters kept coming. The formations of fighters and photon torpedoes merged and the torpedoes detonated, destroying dozens of fighters, tearing them apart in less than a second.

As the survivors came through the lingering fireball, the _Berlin_'s phasers opened fire, but still the fighters came, boring in closer as they were picked off one by one until, in unison, they fired their missiles and broke away.

All but one.

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Michael watched as the other fighters salvoed their missiles and broke off. But now, instead of following the rest of the squadron, he dove, passing below the starship as the missiles hammered into it, and its shields erupted in a kaleidoscope of defensive energy, before failing and allowing the last few missiles to strike the bare hull.

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The force of the massed missile strike shook the bridge like an earthquake. There were screams and cries of surprise as crewmen were thrown to the deck or slammed against their consoles. The lights flared and died, replaced seconds later by red emergency lights.

"Report!" Driscoll demanded as he hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. "What's hit?"

"Forward shields down, structural damage to the forward saucer, deflector dish and forward engineering hull," Jacobs replied, having retaken her station.

"Navigational deflectors offline," said Curtis. "Forward RCS thrusters are not responding."

"Casualty reports coming in, Captain," said Lieutenant Singh. "Reports from deck six, seven, twelve through fifteen."

"Where are they?" Gredar rasped, a cut below his eye bleeding freely down the side of his face.

"They're running, sir," Mordock replied. "They appear to be disengaging."

"This bodes ill," Gredar hissed.

"Yeah," Driscoll agreed. "Bastards are getting smarter."

"Skipper!" Jacobs called. "One of the fighters is headed for Arus."

"Nail 'im," Driscoll ordered.

Jacobs punched commands into her board, then pounded it in frustration. "I can't! Weapons are down!"

"Alert the Voltron Force. We'll let Keith have him. And get _Timberwolf_ over here. We'll need an escort if those bastards come back."

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"We're almost there, Kala," said Michael. "Just a few more minutes. Look."

For the first time since they left Citrine II, Kala straightened up and looked out of the cockpit. Before her lay the blue and green planet Arus. They had almost made it.

They entered the atmosphere and headed down. As soon as they came out of the fireball, though, the lock-on alerts flashed and buzzed, and Michael suddenly remembered the one thing he'd forgotten to learn how to use.

The radio.

Frantically, he began swerving back and forth, punching buttons on the console and shouting, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot, we're friends!"

Just when he thought they'd had it, a commanding voice replied, "_Who are you_?"

"My name is Michael. I'm an escaped slave from Citrine II. I've come to warn you about Lotor's plans. Please, don't shoot. I've got my sister in here with me."

The fighter began to shake and for a moment, Michael thought he was being shot down. Then, on either side of his cockpit, a giant, catlike head appeared, one black, one yellow, both close enough to touch.

"_There's an airfield ahead. Land there_," the voice commanded. It's tone left no room for negotiation.

Michael looked around and saw the airfield ahead and slightly to the right. There were several holes in the landing area, and signs of hastily-abandoned repair work.

Seeing a spot near the end of the strip that appeared safe, Michael descended and slowed the fighter, brining it in for a rough but intact landing. Even before he could get the hatch open, the Lions had landed upright on either side of him, while two others had appeared in the sky above.

Climbing down to the tarmac, he was greeted by a squad of armed men wearing brown uniforms. Two others in white suits, one with red trim, the other with yellow, approached him and Kala.

"I'm Commander Keith of the Voltron Force," said the man in red.

"Michael," he replied. "This is my sister, Kala." Kala nodded, but said nothing. "We have information for you. Lotor's planning to attack Arus. Very soon."

Keith looked them over, and looked to one of the guards. "Escort them to the castle, Corporal."

"Yes, sir," the other man replied. The guards stepped forward, taking the two former slaves into their midst as Keith and Hunk returned to their Lions.

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When they returned to the Castle of Lions, Keith spoke to Coran. "Have Adam come down. He'll want to hear what they have to say."

Coran nodded. "I'll relay the message through the _Timberwolf_. _Berlin_'s communications have gone offline."

Keith looked at him. "How bad were they hit?"

Coran held his gaze for a long moment before replying, "A better question, Commander, is how did they survive?"

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"Scotty, let's look at it this way: What works?" Driscoll asked. He, Gredar, and Scotty were standing in main engineering near the deactivated warp core.

"Righ' now, na' much," the Scotsman replied as the group moved over to the master system display. He called up a diagram showing the damaged systems, color-coded by severity. "We're running on backup systems except for life support and a few maintenance systems. In a pinch, I could probably get ya the aft weapons and shields. Shuttlebay's operating fine, and we've got impulse, but we canna move safely until we get the navigational deflectors back."

"How long, Captain?" Gredar asked.

"Well, the shields took most of the impact force, so there isn't much structural repair except the crushed hull segments on decks four and five and the area around the deflector dish. The forward shield generators will need replacing, and the rest is just a matter a' replacing parts and patching circuits. I'd say three days."

"You've got two to get us combat-ready, Scotty. Luxuries are not on the list. I'll put in for the shield generators and whatever other parts we need. Meanwhile, you see what you can do with what you have."

_Like I always do_, Scotty thought, but he said only, "Aye, sir."

"I'll have _Timberwolf_ cover us for now, but we'll need to cut them loose ASAP, so keep me informed on the repairs, okay?"

Scotty nodded, and the two senior officers left engineering. As they did, Driscoll's combadge chirped. "Timberwolf_ to Driscoll_."

The young captain tapped the badge. "Driscoll here."

"_O'Donnel here, Adam. They want to see you planetside_."

"Okay, thanks, Mark. Driscoll out." He turned to his first officer. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Keep in touch through _Timberwolf_ until we get the ship-to-shore gear going again."

"Captain, I must question your decision. The ship is crippled. You are needed here."

Driscoll nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I'm also the Federation liason officer to the Alliance. Coran knows we're hurt, so if he's asking me to come down, it's gotta be important."

Gredar understood the boy's reasoning, and saw his point. But he felt the damaged starship should be the Captain's most pressing concern. Regardless of his opinion, though, the Captain was justified in his decision, so Gredar made no further comment.

"I will keep you informed of our progress," Gredar told him.

Driscoll nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, turning down a corridor and heading for a turbolift.

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When Driscoll got to the castle's conference room, he was surprised to see a young woman seated at the table with Coran and the four pilots. Beside her was an oddly familiar young man.

After introductions were made, Driscoll recognized the man as the one he'd overflown on Citrine II and waggled his wings at.

Michael explained to the Voltron Force what he knew of Lotor's plans, including all of the information gathered by the resistance. What he told them about the ships, armor, and soldiers assembled drew an astonished whistle from Lance, surprised glances from Hunk and Pidge, and dark looks from Adam, Keith and Coran.

"The good news," said Michael, "is that we've given you guys a way to take them out quickly. Once their navicomputers indicate they're approaching Arus, the shields will start to fluctuate. Hit them near the base of the conning tower on the right side, and you'll trigger a cascade reaction that will wreck their command systems."

Keith was suspicious. Leaning forward on the table, he asked, "How were you able to set that up? The Drules don't let slaves anywhere near their ships."

"They had no choice," Michael replied. "With the schedule Lotor gave them, and the number of ships involved, they had to use slaves. There were enough of us for a few to slip away every so often to set up the demolitions."

"When will they attack?" Coran asked. That question had been on everyone's mind since the attack on Shavena.

"It could be any day now."

The Voltron Force exchanged alarmed looks. Keith looked at Adam, and everyone knew what they were thinking. Adam nodded. "I'm on it." He rose and left the room, making for his fighter.

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The next few hours passed in a chaotic series of communiqués, meetings, and general confusion. Jacobs and _Timberwolf_'s security officer were dispatched to meet with Commander Wright, Keith, and Coran to start planning and laying out the ground defenses. Driscoll requested reinforcements and resupply from Starfleet, including the replacement parts Scott asked for. While he awaited a reply, he met with Captain O'Donnel to talk about how their two ships could best attack the incoming enemy fleet, which would outnumber them by at least a hundred to one.

Keith had also requested reinforcements from Galaxy Garrison, but he knew that it was unlikely any would be sent. Even as he sent his message, though, his mind was elsewhere.

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Commander Torka left his office and headed for the detention block. He'd just received his orders for the invasion, and there were many preparations to make. But first, there was someone he wished to speak to.

The base was dimly lit, though still brighter than most Doom installations. Long, dark-walled corridors with steel floors ran throughout the base, conveying the members of the Konogg Brigade to their destinations quickly and efficiently. Soldiers nodded to Torka as they passed.

Stepping off of a lift, Torka turned down a corridor into the detention block. Checking in with the guard, he proceeded to the only occupied cell.

Princess Allura looked up as she heard the door open. If she weren't chained, she'd try to take her visitor out and escape. As it was, she could only watch a tall, simply-dressed figure enter the cell and stand a few feet away. She'd long ago deduced that this man was the leader of the organization. Unlike other ranking Doom officers, however, he was surprisingly unpretentious. He wore no cape, no elaborate ornamentation. Just a few rank and unit insignia.

"How are you, Your Highness? Are you hungry?" the man asked as he sat beside her. Again, Allura was surprised. He spoke in a calm, even tone, and wasn't haughty or condescending.

"No, thank you, Commander," Allura replied coolly. After a moment, she asked, "I suppose I'm waiting for Lotor?"

Torka nodded. "He'll be along to collect you in due time."

"Where am I?"

"A base on your planet, built some years ago and protected by the same masking technology that our fighters use."

"They'll find you. Your masks aren't infallible," Allura said defiantly.

"You mean Razin? Bad luck, nothing more," Torka said with a dismissive wave. "But he is a loss in manpower only. He was impulsive, ambitious, and stupid." Torka paused, then grunted bemusedly. "He'd have gone far in his career. Like all the other imbeciles I answer to."

"You don't respect your leaders?" Allura asked.

"Some. Not many. Most are too concerned with their own careers. They serve themselves first, their planet and people second. They fight battles that don't need fighting, and capture planets of no value. They conquer for conquest's sake. Not for resources or colony worlds."

Now his voice lowered to an angry snarl. "And when they do advance, they forget about how they got there. They forget about the loyal soldiers who fought and died at their command. Those people are commanders in rank only."

Allura shifted in her seat. She didn't like Drules. She despised most of them, and some she downright hated. But this one was different. She'd never known a Drule commander to show concern about his men, or distrust for his leaders. She didn't like Torka, but she found that she suddenly felt a certain respect for him.

Just then, he reached out and grabbed her hands. She jerked back in alarm, and Torka released her. "I was going to remove your shackles," he said.

Slowly, Allura held her hands out to him, and Torka removed the irons, saying, "You're a royal prisoner, and a woman. Even we Drules aren't completely without manners."

"You expect me to talk?" Allura asked sharply, rubbing her chafed wrists. "You think a little humanity will make me betray my people?"

"Your mistrust is disappointing, Highness, but not unexpected," Torka replied. "No, I do not want anything from you. It will be pointless soon, anyway."

"How long?" Allura asked, knowing Torka was talking about the invasion.

Torka just smiled and rose. "Make yourself comfortable, Princess. I'll have some food brought to you."

Allura watched as Torka left and shut the cell door behind him, her mind swirling with what she'd learned from her conversation with the Commander. The invasion was coming. The boys would need her. She had to escape.

But how?

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Later that evening, Driscoll was in the _Berlin_'s shuttlebay, adjusting _Thunderwing_'s sensors, when Captain Scott came toward him from the other end of the bay. "Captain?"

"Yeah, Scotty, what's up?" Driscoll replied, setting down his tools on the wing as Scott walked up beside him.

"I think I've found the answer to our tracking problem," Scotty replied. He handed Driscoll a brass-colored object, about two centimeters around, slanting down to a one-centimeter cone.

"A .50 caliber API round?" Driscoll asked, picking up the bullet and looking it over. "I don't get it."

"This isn't just any bullet. This one has a viridium core."

Driscoll immediately saw what Scotty was getting at. Viridium was a very rare metal that, while not dangerously radioactive, could be detected by Federation sensors at a range of two parsecs. More than sufficient to find the enemy base.

"Scotty, you're a Goddamn miracle-worker," Driscoll blurted, grinning at the engineer.

Scotty rolled his eyes, then looked at Driscoll and cocked an eyebrow as he said, "Lad, the miracle's yet to come."

"We'll see. Okay, I'll need two belts, 270 rounds per, chain-belted. Can you do that for me?"

Scotty considered a moment before replying, "Aye, I can. Give me one hour."

"You got it. Thanks, Scotty."

Scott nodded and left the chamber, and Driscoll went back to work on his sensors. Within an hour, he had finished. Now there was just one more modification he needed to make. Walking over to a locker at the side of the shuttlebay, he withdrew two cases. Each one held an original piece of _Thunderwing_'s weaponry: a .50 caliber Browning M2 machine gun.

By the time Captain Scott returned, Driscoll had swapped _Thunderwing_'s two outboard phasers for the machine guns. He took the ammo from the engineer, and loaded the guns, praying as he did that they'd be able to find Allura soon.

But first, he'd have to find one of the Konogg Brigade's fighters.

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The next morning, Keith beamed up to the _Berlin_. Not long before, he'd received some bad, though not unexpected, news from Galaxy Garrison. A security guard escorted Keith to Driscoll's ready room. He pressed the door chime, and a moment later, the doors whooshed open.

Driscoll looked up from his console. "Hey, Keith."

Keith nodded and walked up to the front of the desk. "Good news?"

"Kinda. We should be combat-ready again by late tomorrow. There's a CST coming in today with torpedoes and new shield generators, and they're gonna help us with the hull damage."

"What about reinforcements?"

Driscoll sighed and looked at Keith. "Not comin'. Nechayev said there's nothing available."

"Nothing?" Keith asked incredulously.

Driscoll shook his head. "Not even a Goddamn fighter squadron," he said skeptically. "Everything Starfleet can scrape together's being sent to the Cardassian border."

"But don't they realize that Lotor will go after you next?"

"That's my fault, Keith. When I told Nechayev I could close the wormhole, I kinda stepped in it hip deep. Now she thinks that if we get in trouble or if Lotor's threatening to break through, that I'll just close the hole. So…"

Keith nodded.

Driscoll looked at Keith. "What about the Garrison?"

"They're not coming, either. The usual story. They're spread too thin, and there's nothing close enough."

The two officers were quiet for a time. Finally, Adam said, "The way I see it, Keith, there's not much chance that any of us will survive this. I mean, shit, we're outnumbered a hundred to one, no reinforcements, there's sure to be robeasts…" He shook his head before adding dejectedly, "This is probably gonna to be our last ride."

Keith nodded. "Probably." Keith never liked to focus on negatives, but he was also a realist. He had already concluded himself everything that Driscoll had just said. He just hoped that he and the other members of the Voltron Force could do enough to Lotor's fleet to give the ground troops a chance.

"_Berlin _and _Timberwolf_ won't be captured," Driscoll continued quietly. "We don't dare let them or the starbase fall into enemy hands."

Keith nodded again, fully understanding what Driscoll was saying. "Voltron, too," he added. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. It really wasn't his decision to make. It was Allura's. The problem was, she wasn't there to make it.

"I figure," Driscoll continued, "With the sabotage Michael told us about, we should be able to take out fifty, maybe sixty cruisers, between us and _Timberwolf_, and a few hundred fighters, if we're lucky. That's still leaves a helluva lot for you."

"Probably at least two robeasts," Keith added.

"Probably."

"And without Allura, we can't form Voltron…" Keith said.

"Well, there might be something we can do about that," Driscoll replied. He told Keith about Scotty's new ammunition, and how, if he could get a few slugs into a fighter, they could track it back to its base. And once they found the base, they found Allura. "Only thing is, how the heck to we get one of them where I can shoot it?"

Keith had an answer to that.


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 10 

As the sun rose over Arus, painting the low clouds in warm colors, the only thing that disturbed the reddening sky was a single streak, high above the Castle of Lions – _Thunderwing_ on dawn patrol. But this wasn't Driscoll's usual pleasure flight. Checking his sensors and examining the sky around him, Driscoll was alert and ready to go into action at a moment's notice.

As he looked around, he saw a dark shape below and behind him. But he wasn't alarmed. He'd know that boxy silhouette anywhere. Black Lion climbed up to altitude and pulled in beside the fighter.

"Trying to bounce me there, Keith?" Driscoll asked conversationally.

"Adam, if I was trying to bounce you, you'd never have known it."

"Ha, fat chance," Driscoll scoffed.

"Oh yeah?" Keith asked. "You know what, Adam? You're too damn cocky for your own good. If we weren't short a pilot, I'd show you a few things," Keith said crossly.

"And if you'd let Allura come with you, instead of hiding her in the castle, we wouldn't _be_ short a pilot."

"Are you saying it's my fault she was kidnapped?" Keith demanded, an edge of anger creeping into his voice.

"Sure as hell ain't mine," Driscoll replied.

Keith dropped back behind Adam, who watched as Black Lion came in right on the fighter's tail. Its eyes began to glow as Keith charged the eyebeams. He held his course straight and level as he warned, "Don't even think about it, Keith."

Keith fired.

Driscoll yanked the stick back, causing the shot to pass just below his fighter. "Oh, no, you didn't," he said, barrel-rolling the plane into a split-S dive.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Keith asked, watching the fighter.

"Kick your friggin' ass, Lion-Boy!"

"I'd love to see you try, kid."

"My pleasure."

Keith pulled Black Lion aside as _Thunderwing_ attacked from below, four of her phasers spewing crimson death at the spot previously occupied by the Lion. As the Mustang streaked by, Keith turned to follow him.

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High above the dueling pilots, a single, cloaked fighter flew by, attracted by the weapons fire and to commotion he heard on the radio. Commander Torka was surprised by what he saw: Black Lion and the Starfleet fighter were once again fighting each other. He circled the area warily, watching the altercation. Surely, this was just an exercise.

Then, he saw Black Lion fire at the fighter, scoring a slight hit as the Mustang evaded in a tight turn, but as it made a firing pass on the Lion, only four of its weapons fired. It was damaged.

"_Ha, you missed, moron_!" he heard Keith taunt over the radio.

Torka smiled. They were fighting in earnest. Perhaps with the attacks and the loss of the Princess, they'd been pushed past the breaking point.

This time, Torka saw no others with them. They were alone, adding strength to his theory. Wouldn't the others try to stop them if they were able? Or cared?

Black Lion scored another hit, and the Mustang dove away smoking, with the Lion close behind.

Torka turned and dove. If he could strike Black Lion while he was fixated on the fighter, he could ensure that Voltron was silenced forever.

He followed the craft into a cloud deck. When he emerged between layers, the Starfleet fighter was gone, but there was no time to worry about it. He dropped his mask and powered his weapons, preparing to attack.

Suddenly, his fighter began to shudder and an alarm went off. "_Die, Keith_!" he heard the Starfleet pilot say. The P-51 was on his tail and attacking!

Torka quickly remasked his fighter and pulled back into the clouds, hoping that he wasn't smoking. The Federation fighter pressed an attack on Black Lion, then broke off with Black Lion turning to pursue.

Torka turned for home. That had been too close. How had that fighter known he was there? It couldn't have seen him before he unmasked, could it?

A small voice in his head was telling him that he'd been had, that it was a trap. But he ruled it out. How could it be? He'd been in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. The fighter, had looped in the clouds, and come out expecting to see Black Lion, but of course he'd fired at Torka. Torka was his enemy, too.

Satisfied that his cloak was functioning properly and that he was leaving no trail, he turned for home. He was disappointed that he hadn't finished Black Lion, but no matter. He had the Princess, and from what he was hearing on the radio, _Thunderwing_ was no more.

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"You're going to kick whose ass?" Keith demanded as he formed up with _Thunderwing_ again, and the two pilots switched to a private intercom channel. "Did you get him?"

Driscoll grinned at him. "Dude, it was beeea-utiful. I put two bursts into him before he broke off, and you were right there. Perfect set-up, my man."

Keith nodded. The day before, Keith had put the entire plan together, about how they would stage another fight to try to draw one of the Konogg fighters in close enough for Driscoll to use his new ammo on it, and how they'd turn down their weapons' power and rig a few special effects to simulate realistic damage. And it had worked exactly as planned. "Yep."

Driscoll opened a second channel. "Driscoll to _Berlin_."

"_Jacobs here_."

"You guys tracking him?"

"_Got a clear trace, Skipper. Looks like you put a couple kilos of the stuff into him_."

"Hey, I don't screw around," Driscoll replied. "Have Mordock track him, and I want you to put a rescue team together. Pick four of your best guys, and load 'em up. I wanna be ready to go at a moment's notice."

"_Aye, aye, sir. _Berlin_ out._"

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After their staged fight, Keith and Adam returned to the Castle of Lions, where they met with Coran, Commander Wright, and the town leaders of Olessa, Shavena, and the other nearby villages in the Control Room to discuss the defenses.

As they were set, the plans called for the establishment of a triangular defensive zone, with Olessa, the airfield, and the Castle of Lions at the corners. The castle would provide artillery support with its guns and missiles. Armed shuttles from the starships would serve as APC's and support craft, and supplement the Lions providing air support and fighter cover for the ground troops. _Thunderwing_ would not join the battle, as Driscoll would need to remain on his ship.

The engineers and some of the _Berlin_'s security officers, as well as the Castle Guard would act as infantry forces. They would be formed into platoons carrying blasters, phasers, and photon grenades. A number of platoons would also be equipped with isomagnetic disintegrators, a bazooka-like weapon for use against armored targets, and entrenched or concentrated troops. They would operate from command posts at the Castle, Olessa, and the airfield.

As part of the preparations, the engineers were constructing earthwork fortifications and bunkers, with increasing strength toward the command centers. The idea was for the defenders to fall back as necessary to maintain force concentrations, with the Castle of Lions designated as "the Alamo."

But then came the question that nobody wanted to face: "What if we can't hold the castle?" Wright asked.

"We will hold," Coran said resolutely.

"He's right, Coran," said Keith. "We should have a plan." He didn't want to consider it, either, but knew they had to have some course of action ready to go.

"I will not surrender the castle," Coran replied. "It stood even after Zarkon's first invasion, and it would be an insult to the memory of King Alfor and everyone who gave their lives to protect it and the Royal Family." His voice softened a bit as he said, "But if it seems we are to be overrun, the Princess must be evacuated above all else."

"And how do we do that?" asked the Elder of Shavena, a man named Allmar.

"Blue Lion would be the best way," said Keith. "Once the Lions are airborne, it wouldn't be a good idea to risk landing. We'd never get up again."

"I'll have the shuttles on alert for search and rescue if a Lion goes down," said Driscoll. "If we use the castle as a rally point, we can evacuate everyone from there."

"And if we lose the shuttles?" Coran asked.

"I'll leave _Toto_ on station at the castle," Driscoll replied. "She should be able to get Allura off-planet quickly enough."

Coran seemed satisfied with that answer, and the conversation turned to tactical issues, such as the use of starships for bombarding enemy troops, and defense against Doom ships doing the same.

As they were discussing the possibility of conscripting more troops from local villages, Driscoll's commbadge chirped. "Berlin_ to Driscoll_."

"Driscoll here. Go ahead."

"_Sir, the fighter you hit just crashed into the ocean a few hundred kilometers east of Shavena_," Mordock said. "_I'm sorry, sir. It appears you damaged it too badly._"

Driscoll's shoulders slumped in disappointment. There went their last chance of finding Allura.

"Acknowledged. Driscoll out." He turned back to the others gathered in the Control Room.

"Captain, we must find her," Coran said. "Surely, you can…"

"Coran, we're out of time, and out of options," said Keith. "For all we know, Lotor's fleet is on the way now. Allura would want us to see to her people and her planet first, so I suggest we do that." Keith rarely disagreed with Coran, and he felt the same way that the old advisor did, but he knew that, unfortunately, finding Allura could not be a priority any longer. At least, not if they wanted to have a cohesive defense plan ready to meet Lotor's attack.

Coran opened his mouth to protest, but the logic of the Commander's statement was undeniable, so he merely looked away, and said nothing.

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Above Citrine II, Lotor's invasion fleet prepared to depart. The last of the ships was just launching from the planet, and the fleet was forming up. At its heart, sixty battleships and eighty cruisers, prepared to land troops and armor, and provide orbital bombardment. These were escorted by sixty star cutters, whose job it would be to ramrod the fleet through to their target. 6,000 fighters supplemented this already-awesome force. It was the largest invasion force in Doom history, just as Zarkon demanded.

Aboard his command ship, Lotor surveyed the progress with satisfaction. The turned to Haggar and asked, "Your robeast is ready?"

"Indeed, My Lord," the witch replied with a snaggle-toothed smile. "I think you will be most pleased with my latest creation."

Lotor nodded. "Very good."

A moment later, Commander Kozal approached him. "The fleet has formed up, Your Highness. Request permission to return to the base."

Lotor was about to dismiss him, when he remembered what Haggar had said about enlisting the Commander's help. Even Lotor wasn't fool enough not to realize that the scale of the operation would demand great experience and skill in command in order to be successful.

"No, Kozal," Lotor said finally. "You will join my command staff. Report to the fleet control center."

Kozal was shocked. He'd have expected Lotor to dismiss him eagerly, but now he'd been added to the mission. His suspicions rose. Why was Lotor doing this? He'd never shown any interest in Kozal's opinions before, so why now?

Distrustful of Lotor's intentions, but obedient of orders, Kozal saluted and left the command deck.

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As Lotor's fleet got underway, Commander Torka surveyed his own men. Before him stood eighty of the 126 men of the Konogg Brigade. Others were aboard their assault ship, the same vessel that had torpedoed Shavena harbor. In its cargo bay were two Doom Tanks, their crews assembled with the others. Behind the assault ship, five fighters sat, powered up and ready for launch. One still bore the marks of Torka's encounter with _Thunderwing_ earlier in the day. But since no vital systems had been hit, repairs were deemed unnecessary.

The remainder of the brigade would remain behind, a skeleton crew to operate the base.

"Today," said Torka, "is the beginning of the end for Arus, the Voltron Force, and their Federation allies." The men cheered, and Torka waved for their silence before continuing. "We have been given the honor of leading the attack.

"The Voltron Force does not know we are coming. Even if they did, they could do nothing. They are in disarray, and their discipline has been broken by our attacks. Princess Allura herself is our guest, and this morning, the Starfleet fighter was destroyed by Black Lion." Another cheer erupted. It was the celebration of troops who felt assured of victory. Torka let this one subside on its own. "Our mission is to capture the airfield near the castle, so that Prince Lotor's invasion force may deliver their troops and tanks. Your squad leaders will have your individual orders." He pumped his fist in the air. "To victory!"

"Victory!" the men chorused, another cheer breaking forth.

"Prepare for departure," Torka shouted over the din, and the men began filing onto the ship.

Minutes later, the assault ship and its fighter escort left the launch bay.

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"Captain! The fighter is moving!" Mordock announced, spinning in his chair to face the young commander.

Driscoll leapt from his chair and crossed the bridge to the science station in three steps. "Currents, Lieutenant?" he asked, looking at Mordock's sensor display.

"Not at 400 KPH, sir."

Driscoll looked at the readout again, and his jaw dropped as he realized what was going on. _No wonder we couldn't find the sons a' bitches._ "Good job, Mordock." He turned. "T. J.!"

"Sir?"

"Get that assault team together. Mordock, feed coordinates on the fighter's resting place to transporter room one."

"Aye, sir."

Driscoll saw Jacobs stepping onto the turbolift as her replacement took control of the tactical station. "Whoa, T. J., wait up!"

"Captain…" Gredar began as Driscoll moved toward the lift.

"Save it, Gredar. I don't want to hear about regs 'cause I don't care. The ship is yours," he said as the lift doors closed behind him and Jacobs.

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They headed to the ship's armory, where they drew hand phasers and phaser rifles, and light body armor. On the way to the transporter room, Driscoll stopped at his quarters for his phaser pistol, shrugging the holster rig on as he and Jacobs jogged to the transporter room.

The other four members of the assault team were already there, equipped like Driscoll and Jacobs. One carried a medical kit, and two others carried tricorders, in addition to their regular gear.

Driscoll gave them a short briefing as they stood assembled on the transporter pad. "Okay, guys, this is a rescue mission," he looked at the men with tricorders. "Wilson, MacGregor, you guys're our pathfinders. We're headed for their brig to rescue Princess Allura.

"We don't know what we're gonna find down there," he cautioned. "Everyone keep your heads on a swivel and watch each other's backs. When we find Allura, Commander Jacobs and I will cover her while we exit. Now, we may or may not be able to beam right out of the brig, so if not, we evac back to the beam-in. Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"One last thing," Jacobs said. "Our target is under water. We'll be beaming into a docking area, and there's a chance it's flooded. We need one volunteer to go first, and signal a 'go/no-go'."

"I'll go."

"You sure, Jenkins?" Driscoll asked.

"Yes, sir."

They all stood. "Okay. We'll send you out, and bring you back if we don't hear from you in five seconds." Everyone there knew that there was a good chance Jenkins wouldn't last five seconds if he beamed into a flooded chamber at a great enough depth, but nobody mentioned it.

Jenkins nodded. "Understood."

Everyone took their places around the chamber. Jenkins nodded to the operator. "Energize."

The rest of the team waited tensely as Jenkins dematerialized and disappeared.

"_Jenkins to Driscoll: All clear._"

"Acknowledged," Driscoll replied. He turned to the others. "Set weapons for heavy stun, rifles ready. It's go time." He looked at the transporter operator. "Energize."

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Princess Allura had heard Torka's speech over the PA, and now as she sat in her cell, her mind was racing with a confused maelstrom of thoughts and ideas vying for supremacy: _Lotor was coming. Her planet needed her. The Konogg Brigade was attacking. She had to escape. The boys were in trouble. They needed her. Her people needed her. Keith killed Adam…_

"No, never," she said to herself. Keith would never do that. Torka had to have been lying. Even if he'd snapped again, Adam would have escaped. But why would Torka say that to his troops, who would doubt him as soon as _Thunderwing_ joined the battle? What if Adam and Keith had wanted to fight? What if they…

_Stop it, Allura_, she chided herself. _You can go all day on "what if's"._ What mattered was what she did. What she did _now_. She had to escape.

She looked around her cell for the hundredth time, looking for some potential tool she might have overlooked; some option she hadn't considered. The bunk was bracketed to the wall, and was too secure to pull loose. She'd already tried. It was the same for the small toilet in the corner. Other than that, there was only the blanket and pillow on the bed, and the pink jumpsuit she was wearing. Not exactly good battering-ram materials.

Suddenly, she heard a commotion outside the cell, shouting and blaster fire. Something fell hard against the outside of the door, and a moment later, it slid open, dumping a Doom soldier at her feet. Another figure, clad in black armor, burst through the door. Allura yelped and jumped back. The next thing she knew, hands were pulling her to her feet. "Stop! Leave me alone!" she demanded. "Who are you? Where are you taking me?"

Jacobs smiled at her. "Relax, Princess. The cavalry's here." Relief flooded over Allura as the security chief herded Allura into the corridor, where the brighter light momentarily blinded her.

"Boy, am I glad to see you, Commander," she said. A moment later, she felt a pistol pressed into her hand as another familiar voice said, "Here, Ally. Take this and stay close. Wilson, MacGregor, take point. Jenkins and Tarver, rear guard. Let's move!"

Adjusting to the light, Allura looked around as she was herded up the corridor. Driscoll was ahead and to her right, and Jacobs was on her left. Four other men escorted them to the front and rear. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the beam-in point. This area's magnetically shielded, so we can't beam through," said Jacobs.

"Torka said you were dead, Adam."

Driscoll grinned over his shoulder at her. "Me and Keith set him up, and he led us right to you. This base is about 300 clicks east of Shavena," he said.

"A floating base?" Allura asked.

"Nope, we're about a two kilometers underwater. This base's built into an underwater hillside." Allura was stunned, but knew that now was not the time to ask questions. She raised Adam's pistol as they cautiously made their way down the corridor. They passed several intersections, where Allura saw Doom soldiers sprawled out on the floor.

"They'll be fine," Adam told her as they hurried past. "Just stunned."

The group had almost made it back to the hangar when a barrage of blaster fire zipped by their heads.

"Down!" Jacobs yelled as Tarver and Jenkins returned fire. Allura peeked up over them and squeezed off a few shots before Jacobs pulled her back. "Stay down!" she admonished fiercely as she and Wilson added their firepower to Jenkins' and Tarver's.

"Fall back!" Driscoll ordered. Wilson and MacGregor ran through the doorway into the hangar, then provided cover fire as Allura, Driscoll and Jacobs retreated.

One of the attacking Doom soldiers was hit, allowing Tarver and Jenkins a chance to pull back. But as they did, another guard stepped into the corridor and fired.

"Aaah!" Jenkins screamed, falling to the floor.

Allura raised her pistol and fired, dropping the guard with two shots and taking Jacobs' place while she and Tarver went out and hauled Jenkins into the docking bay.

"Are we clear for a beam out?" Driscoll asked.

"Yes, sir," MacGregor replied.

"Okay, T. J., you, Allura, Jenkins and Tarver first." The captain spoke to the fallen man. "You hang in there, Jenkins. You'll be home in a minute." He took position with Wilson and MacGregor, covering the doors as the first group dematerialized.

The doors at the end of the chamber whooshed open, and the three Starfleet officers began firing furiously, trying to hold off the attackers.

"Berlin _to Driscoll, stand by_."

"Mission accomplished, guys," Driscoll said. A moment later, he felt the familiar tingle of the transporter claim him and his comrades.

When he materialized on the _Berlin_'s transporter pad, Dr. Saladin was just leaving with Jenkins. He beckoned to Allura as he hit his commbadge. "Driscoll to bridge."

"_Gredar here_," came the reply.

"Notify the Castle of Lions that the Princess is safe and we're beaming her down."

"_Acknowledged_."

Driscoll turned to Allura. "Sorry you can't stay, but they need you."

Allura nodded. "I know."

"Captain, Mordock's been tracking that fighter. It's headed right for the Castle of Lions," said Jacobs.

"It's starting," Driscoll said. He looked at Allura. "Get goin'," he said, gesturing toward the transporter pad. "And take care of yourself."

Allura smiled. "You too. And thanks." She looked at her other rescuers, then took her place on the transporter.

"Energize," Driscoll ordered. He stood and watched Allura disappear, then he and Jacobs headed for the bridge.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_**A/N: **This is probably going to be the last post for a bit. I'm in the process of moving down to Virginia to take a teaching job, so it might be a while before I can update again. Check 6, everyone._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 11 

"Princess, thank heaven," Coran said as she materialized in Castle Control. The others gathered around, welcoming her back.

But Allura had other things on her mind. She thanked them for their concern, but happy as she was to be home, she knew that celebrations would have to wait. She turned to her advisor and asked, "What's happening, Coran?"

"There is a group of ships – five fighters and a larger vessel – heading toward the airfield. We're tracking them with our weather sensors."

Keith looked at Hunk and Pidge. "Are the Lions ready?"

The pair nodded. "All set, chief," Pidge replied, adjusting his glasses.

Keith took in his team with a sweeping glance as he said, "Let's go."

Coran pressed a button on his console, and the Voltron Force dashed into their launch tubes as the command console rose toward the ceiling.

After they formed up over the castle, Keith led the group straight toward the incoming assault force. It no longer mattered if they knew the Voltron Force could see through their cloaks or not. They had to be stopped.

"Dead ahead, Keith," Pidge reported.

"Right, thanks, Pidge." Keith switched channels saying, "Black Lion to _Starship Berlin_."

"_Driscoll here. What can we do ya for, Commander_?"

"Do you have a lock on that assault group?"

"_Sure do. Coran's feeding us the target data._"

Keith nodded. "Good. Here's what we need you to do…"

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"Commander Torka, I have incoming enemy ships. Range, fifty kilometers and closing," the Doom sensor operator reported. Torka's attack force was just coming into range of Olessa, which they would overfly on their way to the spaceport. "It's the Voltron Force!" There was an odd tone in the officer's voice, as though he didn't understand what his sensors were telling him.

Torka smiled. "So they decided to mount a token resistance after all? How noble," he sneered. "Visual."

A small screen on the forward bulkhead activated and Torka's face went blank. All five Lions were headed straight for his group! But how could that be? The Voltron Force was broken. He'd seen to that himself.

He whipped around to face the gunner. "Is the masking field in place?"

"Yes, sir. Masking field is functioning normally."

That gave Torka some reassurance. At least the Voltron Force couldn't see them. But still, he was uneasy. If all of the Lions were here, that must mean that the base had been discovered. And if the base had been discovered…

A heavy knot of fear settled into the pit of Torka's stomach as the Voltron Force assumed an attack formation and accelerated toward them.

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The Lions raced in at the cloaked assault force, their newly modified sensors showing their pilots the exact position of each invisible enemy.

"Okay, guys, take out those fighters!" Keith ordered. "Laser fangs!"

In the jaws of each Lion, the four steel canines lengthened and began to glow pale blue. The distance closed. "Attack!"

The great cats rushed the fighters, which tried in vain to dodge the attack but it was too late. It was over in seconds as the Lions stripped the fighters from their positions around the cruiser, hitting them like a brick wall and tearing them apart with a slash of their great fangs.

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Torka watched the remains of his fighter escort fall to the ground behind the assault ship. The destruction had been instantaneous. One second, the fighters were in position, the next, they were simply gone.

He was about to order evasive maneuvers when the ship shook hard, throwing him to the deck. Slowly getting back to his feet as he felt the deck begin to tilt under him, he heard the helmsman call out, "Engines out! We're going down!"

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"Nice going, team!" Keith said as the _Berlin_'s photon torpedo tore into the aft section of the assault ship. The vessel's cloak failed, and the burning hulk started down.

"Keith, that thing's headed right for Olessa!" Allura warned.

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"Helmsman," Torka shouted over the growing din of alarms and metallic creaks and groans from the dying ship. "Get us as close to the town as you can!" There was no way they were going to make it to the airfield now. The best they could hope to do was make it into the town and hold their ground until Lotor's reinforcements arrived.

The ship continued down, the ground rising quickly as the edge of town drew nearer.

As Torka watched, he saw men below him. Armed men behind earthen ramparts. The city was defended! The Arusians knew about the invasion.

But he had no time to wonder how they found out, as with a final shudder, the ship stalled and tumbled to the ground.

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The Voltron Force circled the wreck, which had come to rest barely one hundred meters from the edge of town, behind most of the defensive lines.

Pidge flew lowest over the ship, slowly scanning the broken vessel. His sensors told him that there were survivors, but their condition was unknown. There were several fires on the ship, including a rather large one in the cargo bay.

Suddenly, the main ramp blew open, and men began crawling out. "Keith, they're making a break for it!" Pidge warned, pulling up as several blaster shots struck Green Lion's head. The young pilot watched them disappear into the woods as Keith said, "We'll let the ground troops handle them. Let's head back to the castle."

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Half an hour after leaving the wrecked assault ship, Commander Torka called his men to a halt and took stock. Of his original force of eighty men, twenty-seven had escaped the ship. Both tanks and their crews were lost, as well as their air cover. The men carried personal armaments only, which amounted to blasters and a few grenades. It was nowhere near enough firepower to take the airfield.

But they had another problem: The Arusians were ready for them. Torka remembered the hastily-constructed defenses and troop positions he'd seen as his ship came down. Somehow, the Arusians had learned of his plans, if not Lotor's.

No, there was no way they could know about Lotor's plans. But that was irrelevant now. All that mattered was that they knew, and they were ready.

It was also a certainty that the base had been discovered, and either taken or destroyed. That's the only way the Princess could be available to fly with the Voltron Force.

Torka looked up and saw his men gathered around him. "What are your orders, Commander?"

Torka regarded his men, seeing the looks of dejection and confusion on their faces. Only an hour or so ago, these same men had cheered their impending victory, and now, he saw only defeat. His men needed action. They needed to believe that there was still a way to win. They had fought hard, and now had seen their imminent triumph snatched cruelly away. But Torka knew just what to do. It would be against his orders, but it was the only way to reenergize his men, and still make a meaningful contribution to Lotor's victory.

He stood, drawing himself up to his full height, his blue skin contrasting with his black uniform. Surveying his men with a calm, steady gaze, he said in a strong, even voice, "I will need five volunteers."

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"Prince Lotor, may I have a word with you?" Commander Kozal asked. "In private?"

"Very well," Lotor replied. The attack fleet was still several hours from Arus, and the Doom Prince was feeling bored. At least hearing Kozal's probably foolish concerns would give him something to do.

Lotor and Kozal walked into a small briefing room near the command center. "What is it, Kozal?"

"You have assigned your man on Arus to take the airfield near the Castle of Lions, so you can land your troops. Am I correct?"

"You are."

Kozal nodded. "What will you do if he cannot?"

Lotor was flabbergasted. The nerve of Kozal to insinuate that Lotor's orders would not be obeyed. It was treasonous!

Kozal saw the anger in Lotor's face, and knew that his question had not been taken as it was intended. "My Lord, not everything goes as we plan. The Voltron Force are formidable enemies, and may find a way to prevent our forces from taking the airfield. At least, until we arrive to reinforce them."

Despite his feelings to the contrary, Lotor couldn't help but see the logic of Kozal's argument. What would he do if the airfield was still in Arusian hands when he arrived? Crush them all, of course. But how? Lotor was not a man of tactics, and that fault was proving most troublesome now. Once again, Haggar's admonition came to mind. "What do you suggest, Commander?" he asked with barely-hidden contempt.

"If the airfield has not been taken, we should send in a group of fighters to draw their fire while a troopship lands on the field. Those troops can then sweep the base and rout the defenders."

Lotor thought over Kozal's plan. And the more he though about it, the more he liked it, but not for its stated goals. The plan was very risky, and the initial strike force would likely suffer heavy casualties. He could fulfill two goals in one stroke.

Looking at Kozal, he said, "Very well, Commander. You will lead the assault on Arus. See to it that our troops are able to land according to plan."

"Yes, My Lord," Kozal replied, saluting as Lotor left the room.

Once Lotor had gone, Kozal mused over what had just happened, and he didn't like it. Lotor had been openly hostile toward him before, and now over the past day and a half, his outward attitude had changed drastically. He didn't like Lotor, and he was sure Lotor didn't like him. So why would he suddenly assign Kozal command of a major part of the operation? To Kozal, the answer was clear: He wasn't supposed to come back.

_Well, we'll see about that_, Kozal thought, a smile bending his lips as he imagined the look on Lotor's face when his little plan backfired.

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The _Berlin_ and the _Timberwolf_ had been on yellow alert for the past three hours. But except for skirmishes between Arusian ground troops and the remainder of the Doom assault force, all was quiet.

Driscoll paced the perimeter of the _Berlin_'s bridge. As he came by the side of the science console, he paused. "Anything out there, Mordock?"

The Benzite shook his head, puffs of vapor wafting from his respirator. "No, sir."

Driscoll nodded and turned to the viewer, gripping the rail that ran around the command section of the bridge. Somewhere out there was a fleet that outnumbered his forces a hundred to one.

But they had a plan. Driscoll, Jacobs, Captain O'Donnel and his tactical officer, Lt. Janos had found a way to attack Lotor's fleet and hit them where Michael told them to, and hopefully do it without getting hit back too hard. But before they could do anything, they'd have to find that fleet.

And the waiting was murder. The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone was on edge, ready to snap into action, or just plain snap.

Driscoll returned to his command chair, glancing at his dinosaurian first officer. Gredar seemed to be staring at the screen, but then he quietly hissed, "The attack comes."

"Yep, sooner or later," Driscoll replied quietly.

"Soon."

Driscoll cast Gredar a sideways glance, but said nothing. Moments later, there was a chirping sound from the edge of the bridge.

"Enemy fleet inbound!" Mordock announced. "Current bearing one-seven-seven mark twelve."

"Okay, people, here we go," said Driscoll, standing up. He looked back at the tactical officer. "T. J., go to red alert, all hands to battle stations. Tell _Timberwolf_ to form up."

"Aye, sir,"

He walked forward, stopping up between the helm and ops stations, resting a hand on Curtis' and Singh's chairs. "Mike, commence approach, warp speed, all ahead full."

"Approach course, warp nine aye," Curtis replied.

Slinging around the far side of Arus, the two starships headed out to engage the Doom invasion fleet.

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Prince Lotor sat in his command chair, looking down around him at the crew of his flagship. The 200-ship armada had just entered the Diamond system, preparing for its attack. Already, the fighters were launching, spreading around the fleet to support the incursions and landings as needed.

"Where are the Federation ships?" Lotor demanded.

"I don't know, My Lord," the sensor officer replied.

"Well, find them!" Lotor commanded. He wasn't particularly worried about them. He had more than enough firepower to obliterate them. No, the problem was that he preferred to have his enemies in a position where he could keep an eye on them. Not being able to account for the starships was a bit unsettling.

"Now passing Shamara, Your Highness," the navigator reported.

Lotor didn't acknowledge him.

If he could have seen through Shamara, Lotor would have found the objects of his search. The starships _Berlin_ and _Timberwolf_ sat there, just waiting for the enemy fleet to pass by.

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Both captains had known that attacking the fleet head-on would be suicidal. They'd be lucky to survive a single pass. But Doom cruisers had a large Achilles' heel. They were only lightly defended, if at all, to the rear. While they were shielded, only the largest battleships carried any rearward-firing weapons. And even these were not particularly dangerous weapons. Certainly not any of their heavy lazon armament.

It was that weakness that the Starfleet ships were about to exploit.

Mordock watched the sensor display as eight, twenty-five-ship columns passed Shamara, with thousands of fighters fanning out around them.

"They've passed us, Captain."

"Okay, here we go. _Berlin_ to _Timberwolf_."

"_O'Donnel here_."

"Let's go, Captain. Remember to stick to the plan."

"_Right_." O'Donnel replied.

"Commander Jacobs, stand by quantum torpedoes, full spread. Mr. Curtis, commence attack run."

The starships whipped around Shamara, the big, _Excelsior_-class _Berlin_ in the lead, with the smaller, _Defiant_-class ship slightly behind. As they closed in on the rear of the Doom formation, the _Berlin_'s phasers swept away the few fighters in their way. As they came racing in at full impulse, a few cruisers realized what was going on, but it was too late.

Like an electric blue shotgun blast, eight quantum torpedoes exploded from the _Berlin_'s launch tubes, followed by a flurry of phaser fire. The torpedoes found their marks and obliterated them.

_Timberwolf_ was next, unleashing a storm from its torpedo tubes and phaser pulse cannons as it followed its larger sister into the enemy formation.

In their wake, eighteen Doom warships tumbled helplessly through space.

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Driscoll grinned. It had worked! They were inside the enemy formation, too close for them to risk using lazon missiles. The ship was buffeted by intense laser fire, but the shields were holding. Under his breath, Driscoll blessed his chief engineer.

"Okay, T. J., remember, target the base of the conning tower on the starboard side," he said.

"Yes, sir."

The starship threaded its way up the convoy, its phasers slashing away at the cruisers. Some immediately faltered and fell out of formation, with _Timberwolf_ finishing them off. Others merely returned fire.

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"My Prince, the fleet is under attack!" the communications droid announced.

"Show me!" Lotor replied. On the big monitor at the front of the command center, Lotor watched the _Berlin_ and _Timberwolf_ tearing through the formation. He gritted his teeth in anger. "How many have we lost?" he demanded.

"Twenty-nine."

"All star cutters, attack! Destroy the _Berlin_!"

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"Yeah, awright! That's how we do it!" Driscoll cheered as his ship broke out the side of the formation, chased by a flurry of laser fire and missiles, which the ion dart launchers handily dispatched.

"Captain, enemy ships are turning to engage," said Mordock.

"How many?" Gredar asked.

"Fifty star cutters, plus fighters."

Driscoll blanched, but quickly reigned himself in. He looked at the viewer, watching the enemy ships coming at him. He couldn't afford to panic now.

"Helm, bring us about," he ordered.

"Aye, sir."

"Photon torpedoes, load tubes one and two, full spread," Driscoll ordered, speaking in a sharp, barking staccato, as he always did at critical moments in combat.

"Tubes one and two loaded and ready, _sir_." Jacobs replied in like fashion.

"Lock targets, stand by to fire."

"Targets locked in, ready to fire, _sir_."

The Doom ships charged.

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Keith and the others watched on the monitors at the Castle of Lions as the star cutters and fighters charged the _Berlin_ and _Timberwolf_. The two starships were hammered by laser and missile fire, answering back with blistering salvos of their own.

Allura gasped, swallowing a sudden feeling of panic as she saw the _Berlin _falter and list to port under a missile strike, her phasers lashing out toward off the advancing star cutter, tearing its keel open.

"Keith…" said Lance.

Keith knew what his friend was thinking, and he agreed. The starships couldn't last long under that kind of assault. They needed help. "Let's…"

But before he could finish his sentence, the castle's alarms rang out as Coran announced, "There's a robeast approaching Olessa!"

"Where? I don't see it," said Hunk. The image on the screen showed only a low dust cloud hovering near town.

A knot of apprehension gripped Keith's stomach. "Coran, what do the Dopplers show?"

Coran changed the view, and they saw the pattern of wind currents over the trees and, towering above them, a shape like none they'd seen before. They couldn't tell exactly what it looked like, but that kind of turbulence pattern could only mean one thing: An invisible robeast was about to level Olessa.

Before Keith could ask him, Coran had raised the launch tubes, and the five pilots were off.


	12. Chapter 12

_Yes, dear readers, MustangAce is back in the saddle. It's been a long and busy four months, but this story will soon be finished, and a new one is already in the wings. I thank everyone for their patience. _

_Check 6 and GO SABRES!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 12 

As the last few stragglers of his battalion returned from their skirmishes, Commander Torka surveyed the men with growing satisfaction. They were watching the robeast advancing on Olessa, crushing the defenders beneath its feet as it advanced.

At least, that's what they'd see if the creature were visible. The robeast, like the suits they wore on their raids, was equipped with devices that made it invisible to all known sensing techniques. Better than their stealthy jumpsuits, though, the beast was totally invisible, incorporating enhancements on the standard masking technology that were the work on Haggar herself.

Torka could feel his men's morale increasing around him. The robeast's apparent unimpeded advance rekindled the Doom soldiers' spirit and nerve. Victory was again within their grasp, and they were ready to reach for it. For the first time since leaving their base, Torka smiled. There was a chance.

As the robeast tore through the Arusian defenses, Torka called to his soldiers. "Men! See what we have done? We few have unleashed hell upon the enemy! Let our enemies never doubt us. We are the elite! We are the invincible! We are the Konogg Brigade!"

His men replied with a war cry that shook the forest around them, and Torka smiled again. "Forward to victory!" He pressed to the front of the group, raised his blaster rifle, and led his men through the gap left by the robeast.

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Overhead, the Voltron Force circled the carnage once as they approached from the Castle of Lions. They saw the small group of Doom soldiers following the robeast and attacking the remaining defenders of Olessa, who fled before the creature's onslaught. The starships' shuttles ran back and forth, low over the battle, moving troops and lending what fire support they could.

"They don't have a chance against that thing, Keith," said Hunk, watching the robeast's turbulence signature on his screen.

"Then let's give 'em one," Keith said. For him, the dust and debris flying around the location of the creature's feet were enough to indicate its position. "Attack!"

The Lions split and dove at the robeast from different angles, using their sensors to target their weapons. "Plasma cannon!" Keith announced as the weapon appeared on Black Lion's back. A blinding white pulse of energy rocketed toward the robeast…

And passed right through, hitting the ground on the other side.

"My turn," said Lance. "Lion torch!" Red lion's mouth yawned wide and a jet of flame shot at the robeast. Lance worked the flame side-to-side, but scored no apparent damage. "How could that not hit?" he demanded in astonishment.

"Try this on, tough guy," said Hunk as he, Pidge, and Allura came in together.

"Eye beams," said Allura

"Space torpedoes!" Pidge called.

"Neutron cannon!" Hunk yelled.

The three Lions attacked simiultaneously, and this time, they got results. Allura's laser beams went through the robeast, but Pidge and Hunk's attacks hit home.

"Way to go, guys," Allura cheered.

Suddenly, an unseen force stopped Yellow Lion in mid-air, and Green Lion was struck hard and sent crashing to the ground.

"Pidge!" Allura gasped.

"Looks like we got his attention…_aargh!_" Hunk cried out as the robeast tightened his grip on Yellow Lion, causing circuits to blow, shooting sparks and stray currents around the cockpit.

"Hunk, hold on, we're coming," Lance said as he and Keith came around to attack the robeast again.

"Together now, Lance," said Keith as they closed in on the robeast. "Lion blades!"

The great knives appeared in the Lions' mouths, and they charged, side-by-side, aiming to free their friend, but both missed.

"No way! His arm was right there!" Lance cried in astonishment, staring in disbelief at his sensors.

Below them, Green Lion stumbled to its feet. "Guys, we've got to attack from different angles," Pidge advised as his lion charged the robeast, the great steel cat knocking trees aside like twigs.

Suddenly, the point became moot as Yellow Lion was hurled through the air, landing hard on his back.

"Hunk! Hunk, come in!" Keith called.

There was no reply.

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Far from the battlefield of Olessa, the _Berlin_ and the _Timberwolf_ fought to free themselves from the assaults of the escorting star cutters.

As his ship shook under another missile barrage, Driscoll called out, "Shield status?"

"Seventy-four percent and falling," Singh reported. He could hear Jacobs directing the phasers against the attacking ships. "Helm, turn us back toward the main fleet. We have to take them down."

"Aye, sir," Curtis replied.

"Mordock, where's _Timberwolf_?"

"Engaged with seventeen enemy ships," the Benzite replied. "Bearing one-five-zero, 2,000 kilometers."

Driscoll cursed. This had happened twice already, where one ship shakes its attackers, only to be forced back to help its counterpart. The escorts were certainly doing their job well. Even with emergency power pouring into them, both ships were losing their shielding more with every missile strike. For some reason, no topaz-lazon missiles had been seen yet, not that anyone on either ship was complaining.

"Helm, belay previous order. Come about on course toward the _Timberwolf_. T.J., ready torpedoes and set all phasers for point-defense," Driscoll ordered as another attack shook the bridge.

The big starship banked around, ignoring the lasers that tore at her shields. Her impulse engines glowed red as she surged forward toward her besieged companion.

"We lost some shielding on that last barrage," Jacobs warned. "We're down to seventy percent." Though the Doom weapons normally posed little danger to the ship, some of the star cutters possessed the topaz-enhanced laser weapons, which were capable of damaging the Federation ship.

"Maintain course. All ahead full impulse."

"Aye, sir," said Curtis.

The _Berlin_ closed quickly on the _Timberwolf_, which was trying desperately to evade and turn on its attackers, but there were too many for even the nimble little destroyer to shake off.

"Torpedoes… _fire_!" said Driscoll

"Torpedoes away!"

The star cutters attacking the _Timberwolf_ turned to face the _Berlin_, but too late. The crimson fireballs found their targets, tearing into the hulls of the under-shielded Doom vessels and ripping them apart.

_Berlin_ pressed her attack, picking off several more starships with flurries of phaser fire, while _Timberwolf_ attacked the _Berlin_'s pursuers.

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From the bridge of his command ship, Lotor looked down to his officers. "Recall the star-cutters to the formation. We will finish the starships later," he commanded. Of his original compliment, he had lost twenty-seven star cutters, eighteen battleships and eleven cruisers, and several dozen fighters. More than a quarter of his forces.

But then, he'd planned on taking losses. He was confident of success, but knew that no victory was without its price. He could lose another quarter of his initial force, and still the fleet would be strong enough to take victory.

Lotor touched a control on the command console in front of him. "This is Prince Lotor, calling Commander Kozal."

The screen in the front of the command center activated, and Commander Kozal's face appeared. "Yes, My Lord?"

"This is where we part ways, Kozal. Do not fail me," Lotor admonished.

"Arus shall be ours within the day, My Lord," Kozal swore with a nod. The screen went blank, and Haggar walked forth from the shadows. Lotor turned to the old witch as she stroked her blue cat and said, "I expect that's the last we'll see of the good Commander."

The cat yowled, and Haggar cackled. "It seems Coba feels the same way, My Prince," she said.

An officer approached Lotor. "The Arusian invasion group has separated and begun their attack, Prince Lotor."

"Excellent," Lotor replied. "Set our course for the wormhole. Those fools on Arus still think I intend to focus all my efforts on reconquering Arus. But by this time tomorrow, the Federation will be mine, and Arus with it!"

_Dun-dun-dun………… Yes, dear readers, I return with a bang, and the revelation of Lotor's true target. Ballsy of the little blue moron, ain't it? Will our gallant heroes be able to stop him? Find out next time._


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_RL2, MaraJade, Cornholio, it's good to hear from you again. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. There's probably two or three left now, and I'm hoping to have it done by Christmas, and to have a new one started for the New Year._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 13 

"Captain, the Doom fleet is splitting up," Mordock reported.

Driscoll turned toward his science officer, crossing the bridge to the Benzite's station. "Flanking maneuver?"

Mordock touched a series of controls. "It doesn't appear so, sir. It looks like…"

"One group's heading for Arus, the other is on a direct course for the wormhole," Jacobs cut in. "They're launching two invasions at once."

A heavy silence descended on the bridge. Driscoll slowly turned back to the command area. "How big is the wormhole force?" he asked.

"One hundred and seven capital ships, sir," said Mordock. "Assorted cruisers and battleships, with star-cutter and fighter escort. A force of thirty-seven cruisers and battleships is approaching Arus."

"Your orders?" Gredar rasped.

Driscoll stood there a moment, stunned. He, like his mentor, didn't believe in a no-win scenario. But this seemed to be just that. His duty was to defend the Federation, and that meant abandoning Arus to the Doom onslaught, which he knew the Voltron Force and their scattered allied forces would be hard-pressed to repel, even under the best of circumstances.

But though his duty was clear, the choice was far from easy. The Sol system, he knew, had more than enough defenses to turn back the Doom assault. If there were even ten battle-ready starships in the system, that would be enough. But were there even those ten? And if there were, wouldn't Starfleet have sent them?

"What do we do, Captain?" Jacobs asked.

Driscoll turned to his tactical officer. "Order the _Timberwolf_ to pursue the group headed for the wormhole, and send a priority-one warning to Command. We will remain to assist the Arusians."

"Captain, our priority is the Federation," Jacobs replied.

Driscoll's eyes flashed in anger. "Do not _ever_ presume to question my orders on my bridge, Lieutenant-Commander. I will assume full responsibility for the consequences of my orders, now _follow them_!" As soon as he said that, he regretted it, but there was no time to explain his reasoning now.

Jacobs stiffened, surprised by the severity of the Captain's response to her statement. "Yes, _sir_!" she replied crisply, relaying the messages to the _Timberwolf_ while Lt. Curtis swung the ship around to follow the Arus-bound force.

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Aboard his command ship, Kozal watched the form of Planet Arus loom larger on his viewer. In a few minutes, he'd be leading his task group into battle, with their first priority being the capture of the airfield.

Lotor had been certain that both Starfleet ships would follow his own group through the wormhole, so Kozal was caught off-guard when one of the robot soldiers called out, "Commander, a starship is approaching from behind."

Kozal spun to face the soldier. "Which one?"

"The _Berlin_, sir."

Kozal walked up behind the soldier and examined the display. Where Lotor would have scoffed at their resistance, Kozal took it very seriously. He'd seen the havoc this ship and her sister had wrought on the fleet as they approached Arus, and would not underestimate them.

"Deploy four escort cruisers to intercept, mobility engagement, and shift fighter cover to defend our rear quarter," Kozal ordered. He knew that those four cruisers would be able to do little to stop the starship, but they could slow it enough to allow the main force to reach the planet and begin deploying.

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"Ugh, what happened?" Hunk groaned as he slowly came to.

"Hunk, you okay?" Pidge asked.

"Yeah. A little shook up, but I'm okay," Hunk replied as his Lion lifted off toward the others.

While Hunk was out, the Voltron Force had been able to shift the robeast's attention away from Olessa, allowing the ground troops time to regroup. They were now digging in against the remains of the Konogg Brigade, which were slowly forcing them back into the town.

"Okay, team, form up," Keith said. As the others gathered, he led them a bit a way from the robeast. "We've got to hit this thing from different angles at once, with different types of weapons. That seems to be the only way to damage it. Anything else just passes right through."

Everyone acknowledged his statement, knowing exactly what that meant. Taking this robeast down would test their skills to the limit, and require absolutely flawless coordination and timing. But what was worse, Voltron was useless to them. The Blazing Sword was only a single weapon, and there was no way it could be effective against this robeast.

As they were positioning for their first attack, however Coran's voice suddenly filled their cockpits. "Doom fleet incoming! Thirty ships plus, with fighter escort!" Even as the advisor spoke, laser fire began raining down on the Lions, forcing them to break formation and dodge around the sky. The situation was becoming downright grim.

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At the airfield, Commander Wright saw the Doom fleet approaching, and ordered his men to prepare for action. As the enemy formations drew nearer, the hastily-installed defensive batteries opened up, joined by supporting fire from the Castle of Lions. It was some tricky shooting though, because they had to be careful not to hit the Voltron Lions, which were dodging around among the Doom ships, striking as they were able between evasive maneuvers.

As the enemy fleet came closer, it became obvious to Wright that their destination was the airfield. He'd been expecting them, as the airfield would prove invaluable for landing troops and armor that would be difficult to offload elsewhere, let alone with any speed.

Wright turned to his lieutenant. "Alert the men: stand by to repel assault forces. They're going to try to rout us from the inside." He knew that it was unlikely the relatively undermanned defensive force could hold the field for long in the face of any determined attack, but then, he had a surprise up his sleeve, as well.

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"Commander Jacobs, lock torpedoes and stand by full spread," said Driscoll. On the viewer ahead of him, the four Doom cruisers were approaching quickly. Within a few seconds, they'd be in range to fire their deadly lazon missiles.

Jacobs programmed the torpedoes and tensely awaited the firing command. She knew they'd get one shot at this, literally. If they missed, the Doom ships could destroy them before they could load another round of torpedoes into the tubes.

Driscoll stared at the screen, watching the enemies approach. They were holding too steady, as though they wanted the starship to fire at them. Something was nagging at the back of the Captain's mind. Something ominous.

"Reduce salvo to six torpedoes. Keep four in reserve, prepare to fire on my mark," Driscoll said. He waited a few more seconds, quietly counting down to himself.

"Fire!"

The six torpedoes exploded from the starship's launch tubes, spreading out and heading for their targets. As they did, the Doom vessels dodged swiftly to the side. Two of the six torpedoes struck their target, the cruiser falling into a spin, its engines dead. The other three rushed the starship, lasers and missile launchers blazing.

"Point defense!" Gredar called as Driscoll yelled, "Launch remaining torpedoes!"

"Hard 'a port, all back port impulse engine!" Driscoll added, aiming to turn his ship away from most of the missiles. The lasers flashed against the starship's shields as the vessel's phasers lashed out at the missiles. Two more cruisers were crippled, each with two torpedo hits. The third came around, maneuvering for another shot as the missiles detonated, too far from the ship to cripple it, but the enriched warheads did plenty to weaken the Federation ship's shields.

"Captain, those were topaz missiles!" Mordock shouted as the bridge shook with the force of an earthquake.

"Naw shit, really?" Driscoll shouted back sarcastically. "Guess they're not holding back anymore," he added to no one in particular. "Where is that sonofabitch?"

"Starboard quarter, close aboard," Jacobs replied.

"Reset phasers and fire," Driscoll ordered. "Helm, swing us around to his bearing."

"Reset phasers, aye," said Jacobs.

"Aye, sir, coming about," said Curtis.

"Firing!" Jacobs announced.

Everyone on the bridge watched the screen as crimson lightning tore into the Doom cruiser, its hull erupting under the barrage, before a massive explosion from within the bowels of the ship tore it in two.

"Good shooting," Gredar hissed.

"Damn good," Driscoll concurred. "Mr. Mordock, status of the enemy fleet?"

"Wormhole invasion group is out of sensor range."

"_Timberwolf_ reports they've engaged the fleet just beyond the orbit of Pluto. No reply from Starfleet yet."

Driscoll cursed. "What's the Arus force doing?"

"Arus group has commenced bombardment of friendly defensive positions. It appears they are clearing landing zones."

Driscoll looked at the helmsman. "Mr. Curtis, park us in low orbit over the planet. All stations, prepare for surface bombardment." He walked over to the science console. "Mordock, what's the Voltron Force doing?" he asked.

"Voltron Force is under fire from enemy warships," Mordock replied.

"I have reports from the Castle of Lions of a robeast near Olessa," said Jacobs.

Driscoll paused. The rest of the enemy fleet seemed to be ignoring the _Berlin_ and focusing on the landings. The starship would be able to remain in orbit and pick off the attacking ships as they made their landing runs. Except…

"Captain, I'm having trouble locking onto the enemy ships. They're using some kind of ECM field that is deflecting our targeting sensors," Jacobs reported.

"Manual targeting," Gredar commanded.

"No effect. Still unable to target," Jacobs replied.

Driscoll nodded. "Looks like we need to get FAC'd up." He turned and strode toward the turbolift, stopping for a moment at Jacobs' side. "I'll mark the targets for you; all you have to do is zero in and fire."

Jacobs nodded. "Understood, Captain."

"Captain!" Gredar called after him, startlingly loud, given his usual low growls and snarls. "You should remain on the bridge."

Driscoll stopped and spun to face his first officer. "Someone needs to mark those targets for Jacobs, and _Thunderwing_'s the only auxiliary craft we have left." He turned back and entered the turbolift. As the doors closed, he added, "We'll talk later, Commander."

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Commander Kozal watched the airfield grow steadily larger as his ship drew nearer. "All hands, prepare for landing. Assault teams to main hatches! Stand by to deploy!" he commanded. As he did, defensive fire began to rise from the airfield, slamming against his ship.

"Taking fire from the base!" one of the crewmen reported. Kozal nodded. The ship was beginning to shake as the heavier armaments zeroed in. "Hold course. Return fire." He ordered. "Show me the Lions."

The image on his screen changed, and he saw the five Lions continuing to dodge as the rest of the ships in the formation fired at them and at the entrenched defenders on the ground. For the time being, Kozal had ordered his fleet to maintain formation and provide cover for the capture of the airfield. Every so often, one of the Lions would come around and fire, seemingly at nothing. But upon occasion, two or three blasts would strike the same point and there would be an explosion. Of course, Lotor had warned him about the special robeast Haggar had sent to Arus. But still, it was a curious sight.

Suddenly, his ship shook violently and pitched forward, straight at the side of the landing area.

"What happened?' Kozal demanded.

"Fire from the Federation ship, Commander. Main power is fluctuating, navigation systems do not respond."

"Brace for impact!" Kozal shouted, strapping himself into his command chair as the surface of the airfield grew frighteningly large, and the defensive guns continued to rake his crippled cruiser.

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Captain Driscoll rolled inverted and crossed over the field, watching the lead cruiser hit the landing deck, slide across it and tumble off the far side, leaving a blackened gouge in its wake.

"Good hit, _Berlin_, he's down. Stand by for new target," he said.

"_Acknowledged_," came the reply in Jacobs' voice.

Driscoll was acting as a FAC, a Forward Air Controller, for the starship, directing the vessel's phaser and torpedo fire since the starship itself was unable to lock on. He had come in on the lead battleship and strafed it, then the _Berlin_ locked onto the flares and explosions his phasers caused, and the greater firepower of the starship was brought to bear for the kill.

Flicking his plane upright, he banked and turned hard, vapor trails streaming from his wings. "Target up," he announced as he bore down on another ship and fired, his phasers stitching a trail across the conning tower. Seconds after he cleared the ship, two photon torpedoes cut it in two. Driscoll tore straight into the formation, tagging one ship after another, each strike followed closely by a barrage of phasers or torpedoes from on high.

Now the enemy ships were firing back at him, realizing that a shot from him meant imminent death from above. Driscoll began dodging and weaving as he flew, his nimble fighter dancing around the sky. On one pass, he crossed very close to Lance.

"_Hey, watch where you're going_!" Lance said.

"You watch it. I had the right-of-way!" As he retorted at Lance, he banked and downed two fighters that were coming after Red Lion.

"_What are you doing here, anyway_?" Lance asked, suddenly beside him.

Driscoll was about to reply when he noticed another cruiser just ahead. "Can't talk, gotta shoot! _Berlin_, target up!" he said as he squeezed the trigger, peppering the cruiser with phaser strikes.

Seconds later, Lance just barely dodged the photon torpedo that blew the cruiser in two. "_Forget this! I'm safer with the robeast_!" he said as he turned back toward the rest of the Lions.

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With Kozal down, the _Berlin_ picking off the ships, the intermittent attacks from the Lions, and intensifying defensive fire from the Castle of Lions and the airfield, the invasion force was dwindling fast, and the formations fell apart. It was every ship for itself.

On the ground, survivors of the downed vessels took up their arms and tried to aid the ground assault, but reinforcements had arrived in Olessa from the other regions, and they were now an immovable force, well entrenched and holding the city tenaciously. Most of the Doom Tanks were lost in the crashes, and those few that could be brought to action were quickly silenced by the defenders' weapons.

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The robeast, in its battle with the Lions, had moved away from the city and was now tramping around in the middle of a forest.

Keith turned his Lion toward the robeast again, and saw Allura lining up on it as well. "On my mark, Princess!"

Allura was lining up on the back of the beast, and Keith was coming from it from the right, slightly in front. Keith counted down mentally, timing the shot.

"Now!" he shouted as Black Lion let loose a blast from its plasma cannon. Allura let loose with a flurry of ion darts, which passed through the beast, but Keith's plasma cannon blast struck home, knocking the robeast back as a flurry of small, red projectiles exploded against its face, sending it tumbling to the ground.

_Thunderwing_ banked into formation with the other two Lions, its triple-tube micro-torpedo launchers still glowing.

"_Keith, look!_" Pidge said.

All of the Lion pilots looked at where the robeast had fallen, and saw some sort of generator pack on the creature's hip, totally smashed and spewing sparks.

It took a second for the significance of that to sink in. _They looked at the creature_…

"_The mask's down_!" Lance said.

"_Good shot, boss_!"

As the robeast struggled uneasily to his feet, they got their first look at him. Its head was a featureless mass with a band running across it where the eyes should be. The body was lean and gangly, almost skinny, but the arms and legs were massive, the forearms carrying blades on them. The legs from hip to foot were encased in some kind of steel boots. The creature's color and skin texture was not unlike a pomegranate, purplish-red and leathery. It carried a battle axe that looked like an oar, the top end blunt and heavily-built.

"_Where does Haggar _find_ these things_?" Hunk asked.

"You can ask her later, Hunk. Right now, it's time for the big guns!" Keith said, drawing his controls in as the fusion systems came online. "Activate interlocks. Dynotherms connected. Infracells up, megathrusters are go."

"Let's go Voltron Force!" the team chorused as they pulled into a vertical climb.

"Form feet and legs," Keith called as Blue and Yellow Lions formed up. "Form arms and body! _Thunderwing_ interface!" The little fighter slid into Black Lion's back as the other Lions locked into place. "And I'll form the head!" With a mighty roar, Voltron stood poised to take on the robeast.

Now without its cloak, this robeast was as vulnerable as any other. But it was far from finished. It raised its sword and charged. "Dodge it!" Keith yelled. Voltron jumped aside, narrowly avoiding the blade as the robeast plowed by. Suddenly, it rounded, trying to catch Voltron unawares. "Grab!" Keith yelled, and Voltron's left arm caught the robeast's sword arm by the wrist. "Fire!" His right arm came up, and Red Lion's flamethrower spewed flaming geyser into the robeast's face.

It stumbled back, dazed, as Voltron clapped his hands together. "Form Blazing Sword!" Keith commanded, and the great blade appeared as Voltron spread his hands apart. But as Voltron lunged for the kill, the robeast brought his own sword up, blocking and then parrying Voltron's strike. Knocking the blazing sword aside, the robeast struck out with its bladed forearm, creasing Voltron's chest, and the great defender staggered back.

"_Keith, if he hits us like that again, he'll penetrate our armor_," Allura warned.

"Adam, reinforce the shields!"

"_Already did. He cut right through it_."

"Then we've gotta finish this," Keith said. The robeast came at Voltron again, but this time, he was ready. As the robeast closed in, Voltron flew up into the air, somersaulting over the robeast. As he came down, Keith yelled, "Strike!" The Blazing Sword came down, cutting directly down the robeast's spine.

The Doom construct threw its head back and screamed as it exploded, and flaming debris was strewn across the countryside. The team cheered their victory as Coran's voice came across the comm channel. "_Castle Control calling Voltron_."

"Go ahead, Coran," said Keith.

"_Radar shows no more Doom vessels in the area. Ground forces are still engaged, but they report that the battle is in their favor._"

"Copy that. We'll help out however we can," Keith replied. A few moments later, Voltron separated, the five Lions and the Mustang forming up over the remains of the robeast.

"_Keith, I'm gonna need you're help. The rest of the Doom ships went through the wormhole, and as far as I know, _Timberwolf_ is alone. And if there's a robeast…"_

Keith didn't need any further explanation. "Okay, team, form up with the _Berlin_. Let's go teach Lotor a lesson about messing with Voltron!"

"_Sounds good to me_," said Lance.

"_Yeah, let's go!_" said Pidge.

"_Let's finish it_," Hunk agreed.

"_We're with you, Adam_," said Allura.

"_Shit hot. I'll see you guys up there_." He stood the P-51 on its nose and rocketed upward, lost from sight in seconds.

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He nearly ran off of the turbolift onto the _Berlin's _bridge, skirting the tactical console as he headed for his seat. "T.J., that was some good shooting. Gredar, status?"

"No Doom vessels remaining within sensor range. Some attempted to flee."

"And you took care of them, I hope?" The Gorn's rumbling growl was all the confirmation Driscoll needed. "Any word from Starfleet or _Timberwolf_?"

"No, sir," Jacobs replied.

"Okay, Mike, set course for the wormhole, as fast as practical. The Voltron Force should be forming up momentarily. They're going to accompany us in case of robeasts." He looked pointedly at Jacobs, hoping she got the message. He'd known that there was no way Voltron would leave Arus unless the robeast were destroyed, and the enemy fleet was at least under control, if not wiped out. That was why he hadn't pursued the main fleet through the wormhole.

"Voltron Force is forming up now," Mordock announced.

"Great. Curtis, engage."

On her captain's command, the great starship, flanked by her feline allies, headed for the wormhole. All aboard her knew that what had happened up to now was just the prelude. The real battle was about to begin.

_A/N: A Forward Air Controller (FAC) is someone, usually a pilot, who directs attacks by aircraft. This can be done either from the air or on the ground. "Shit hot" is pilot-ese for "good", also used as an expression of approval. It is sometimes said as "Sierra-Hotel", which uses radio code for the letters "S" and "H", and is also more appropriate for polite company. The triple-tube micro-torpedo launchers are designed after the M-10 rocket launchers used during WWII._

_The line "Can't talk, gotta shoot," was actually uttered during a dogfight by then-Captain Clarence E. "Bud" Anderson of the 363rd Fighter Squadron, 357th Fighter Group in WWII. He was describing a large group of German aircraft he came upon, and when asked by squadron-mates where he was, his answer was "Can't talk, gotta shoot" followed by the sound of his guns as he shot down a German Bf-109 fighter. The line was used in a war bond campaign, and has become rather famous among fighter pilots._


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_Thanks for all the great reviews, they really help motivate me._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 14 

Emerging from the Federation side of the wormhole, the Voltron Force took their heading from the _Berlin_, and made straight for the Doom battlegroup. On the way into the Sol system, _Timberwolf_'s handiwork was evident as the group passed several Doom ships, some crippled and struggling to regain power, others reduced to shattered hulks.

But where was the fleet? The trail of disabled ships ran on and on into the system, through the Oort Cloud and the Kuiper Belt, and in past the orbit of Pluto. Then, finally, Mordock reported, "I'm reading weapons fire ahead, and a number of ships."

"The _Timberwolf_?" Driscoll asked.

"Yes, sir. And fourteen other ships."

"_Fourteen_?" came Keith's voice over the open channel. "_Has the_ Timberwolf _taken out that many of Lotor's ships_?"

"Negative, Commander," Mordock replied. "The fourteen other ships are Starfleet. Lotor's fleet still numbers over seventy ships."

"Picking up audio from the fleet," Singh reported.

"On speaker," Gredar ordered. A moment later, a cacophony of orders and exclamations came over the channel: "Hood_, coming right to engage the flank." "Enemy ships approaching Neptune base, redeploy to block their approach_." "Akron_'s hit, _Timberwolf_ and _Kasserine_, close in and provide cover_…"

To this cacophony, Driscoll added his voice over the fleet channel. "This is _Berlin_, engaging now," he said.

"_Welcome to the show, Captain_," said Captain O'Donnell from the _Timberwolf_.

"_Voltron Force, prepare to engage,_" Keith ordered. The others chorused their response as the Lions and the starship approached the swirling melee and braced for the fight.

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"My Prince, enemy reinforcements approaching," said the crewman at the sensor station.

Lotor looked at him. "How many?" he demanded. His fleet had encountered less resistance than he'd expected, and their new topaz-enriched armaments had worked well to keep the starships at bay, and they had even managed to knock out a few, though they were unable to destroy them, as he'd hoped. But that was no matter. His ships could finish them off later. But now, he had to establish a foothold in this system if his invasion was to succeed.

"It is the Lions and the _Berlin_, Sire!" the sensor officer replied in alarm.

"What? How can that be? They should still be back at Arus! What is that fool Kozal up to?"

"Perhaps Commander Kozal has already fallen," Haggar said.

Lotor's fist came down hard on his chair's armrest. "Imbecile! I should have known better than to leave him in command of the Arusian task force." He turned to the witch at his side. "Is your robeast ready?"

"It awaits only your command, Sire, and it will unleash all manner of nastiness on these Starfleet urchins."

"My command is given," Lotor sneered. "Deploy the robeast! Destroy every ship in their puny fleet!"

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The Lions rushed in at the nearest group of Doom ships. "Okay, team, let's slice this one like a pizza," Keith said, indicating a large battleship directly ahead.

"_I could go for some pizza right now_," Hunk chimed in.

"_Let's deal with Lotor first, Hunk_," said Pidge.

"Lion Daggers!" Keith called. The knives appeared in the cats' mouths as they zoomed in between two Federation ships that were skirting the edge of the Doom formation. "Attack!"

The Lions blitzed the Doom ship from different angles, all but shredding it as they dug their blades in and rent gaping wounds in the ship's flanks. As the Lions cleared away, explosions began to blossom along the furrows they'd dug in the ship's hull, and the burning battleship fell away, tumbling out of control.

Keith looked off to one side to see the _Berlin_ engaged with two other battleships, while a group of cruisers headed toward Neptune. There must be a base there in this dimension, just like there was on the Neptune he knew. And Lotor must want it.

He was about to vector the rest of the team over to the cruisers, when another message came over the fleet channel. "_Doom command ship is launching another craft. It looks like a… coffin?_" said the surprised officer.

"_A coffin? Keith, that's a robeast_!" Lance said.

"I know, Lance. And you know what that means." He gripped his control yoke a bit tighter as he began the formation sequence. "Ready to form Voltron. Activate interlocks, dynotherms connected. Infracells up, megathrusters are go!"

"Let's go Voltron Force!" the others chorused as the Lions tightened up into formation and began to glow with energy. "Form feet and legs," Keith called, and Blue and Yellow Lions folded their legs and tails up and stood on their chins. "Form arms and body." Red and Green Lions' legs and tails folded up and disappeared, and the four Lions docked with Black Lion. "And I'll form the head!" Keith finished, as Black Lion's head morphed to form the head and helmet of Voltron.

But the Arusians weren't the only ones preparing for battle. As they had formed up, the robeast had deployed from its coffin ship and grown, fueled by lazon energy from Lotor's ship and Haggar's dark magic.

This robeast was more humanoid than most, and pale purple in color. He had a helmet and cowl of dark blue, which hid his face except for his eyes, which glowed out yellow. He stood facing the great defender with his feet spread and his hands up, ready to fight. He carried no weapons.

That gave the Voltron Force pause. They had never seen an unarmed robeast before. This was new, and any new thing from Lotor automatically led them to caution.

"What's it doing, Keith?" Allura asked.

"I don't know, Princess, but I'd say it's waiting for us to make the first move."

"Well, let's not disappoint him," said Lance.

"Right," Keith replied. But before he could say anything else, a starship came in behind the robeast, launching a spread of photon torpedoes at it. The robeast saw the attack from the corner of its eye and nimbly ducked out of the way. It spun around and came up under the ship's saucer with a karate chop, cutting right through the disk. As the ship fell off to one side, the robeast delivered a roundhouse kick, crushing part of the hull and sending the ship tumbling helplessly away.

Allura gasped in astonishment. "Keith, did you see that?"

"I wish I hadn't, Princess," Keith replied. "All right, team, let's see how fast he moves when he's all tied up. Fire tracking coils!"

Voltron reached toward the robeast and shot the green, tractor-beam like rays toward the Doom construct, ensnaring its arms. The robeast tried to break free, but Voltron was ready. He leaned to the side and hauled the robeast into a spin, flinging him away.

"Form electro-sabre," Keith ordered. Voltron pulled the two halves of the blade from behind his back, locking them together to form the energy blade. He rushed at the disoriented robeast, twirling the electro-sabre for a moment before hurling it at the confused robot. At the last second, the robeast ducked out of the way, turned toward Voltron, and charged.

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As Voltron squared off against the robeast, the Starfleet ships were trying to regroup. The Doom star-cutters had done their job well, and now bore the brunt of the fight while the cruisers and battleships proceeded toward Neptune almost unopposed. The small, nimble Doom ships flashed among the Starfleet vessels, delivering their potent lazon punch and withdrawing before the starships could come around and counterattack.

"All ships, form up on us," said Captain DeSoto of the _Hood_, the flagship of the defense group. He saw the enemy battlegroup moving toward the planet, and knew that his ships had to punch through the escorts to attack them, but those damn missiles…

Out of an initial force of twenty-two ships, DeSoto had already lost nine destroyed or disabled by the Doom ships, and now that horrible robeast. If Captain Driscoll hadn't warned them of Voltron's presence, he'd have thought the Arusian robot was part of the enemy fleet as well.

As his ship circled the area, gathering what others it could, his tactical officer reported, "Captain, the _Berlin_ is attacking the invasion force."

"Alone?"

"Apparently, sir,"

"Godspeed to them. DeSoto to all ships: Push in on the invasion force! We have to stop them!"

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"Already on it, Captain" Driscoll called out. The _Berlin_ had caught a lucky break, finding a weak spot in the Doom star-cutter screen and punching through. They now had the main invasion force, some forty ships, in their sights. "Stand by torpedoes, pattern echo, independent tracking."

"We're out of torpedoes, sir." Jacobs replied.

"Then ready phasers. Helm, bring us in from their six o'clock."

"Aye, sir," Curtis replied, his hands dancing across his control panel.

The starship came around on the fleet, her phasers striking out at the few fighters that tried vainly so stop her. "Target the cruisers first. Leave the battleships for the planetary defense batteries," Driscoll ordered. He knew that the massive phaser banks installed at Neptune base would be able to handle the heavy ships, but there were simply too many ships in the fleet for the antiquated weapons to deal with by themselves.

The _Berlin_ entered the rear echelon of the invasion force, crimson and white beams streaking everywhere as the starship attacked, slashing its way through the formation while the Doom ships returned fire. The _Excelsior_-class ship ripped through the Doom fleet and bore down on Lotor's ship. "Target the bridge of the command ship, fire as soon as you have a shot," Driscoll ordered.

"Aye, sir, targeting," Jacobs replied.

Suddenly, a barrage of missiles from one of the cruisers slammed into the _Berlin_, knocking her off course and sparing Lotor's cruiser.

"Starboard shields at forty-eight percent, minor hull damage on decks twelve through fourteen," Singh reported.

"Come around to re-engage," Driscoll ordered. "He's not getting away that easy."

"_Voltron calling _Starship Berlin, _we could really use _Thunderwing _right about now…"_

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Voltron backpedaled quickly to avoid a strike from the lightning-fast hands of the robeast, which just missed Voltron's head. The mighty defender ducked low and kicked out, knocking the robeast back.

"Fire stingray missiles!" Keith commanded as Blue and Yellow Lions' jaws gaped and the rockets shot forth, striking the robeast full in the chest. The robeast howled in pain and surprise, stumbling back, and giving Voltron time to act.

The robots had been locked in combat for several minutes now, and neither had been able to turn an advantage. But that was about to change as Voltron was beginning to weaken. Already, Keith was beginning to feel a slight sluggishness in the robot's movements. And against this quick and agile opponent, any loss in speed would become a serious disadvantage.

The robeast recovered from the sting Voltron had dealt him, and took a ready stance, glaring at Voltron and bellowing a challenge. He was ready for more. Keith knew they had to end this, and soon.

On the bridge of the _Starship Berlin_, Captain Driscoll was torn. Lotor's fleet was continuing to bear down on Neptune Base, and the _Berlin_ was still the closest vessel. But he also knew that Keith wouldn't be calling for his help if he didn't need it. His duty was to the Federation first and foremost. He'd said as much to Keith when he'd joined the Voltron Force.

Finally, he said, "Sorry, Keith, can't do it. We're a little tied up right now." He turned to Jacobs. "Commence firing as soon as we're in range." He tapped his commbadge. "Driscoll to shuttlebay, prepare _Thunderwing_ for launch, six-rocket loadout. Driscoll out."

"Coming into range, Captain," Mordock announced as Driscoll turned back to the viewer.

"Firing," said Jacobs.

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Keith watched in stunned silence as the _Berlin_ made another run on the enemy fleet, plunging into their rear echelon and advancing among the columns, her phasers slashing out like crimson knives, cutting and tearing into the hulls of the Doom ships.

But he had no time to wonder at Adam's reply, not that he needed to. Adam had made clear from day one that his first loyalty was to Starfleet.

"Here he comes again, guys!" Hunk warned.

The robeast was charging Voltron, fists up and ready to swing. The Doom machine led off with a right jab, which Voltron dodged, and followed up with a left cross, catching Voltron in the side of the helmet. Before the Arusian robot could recover, the robeast delivered a stunning roundhouse kick, connecting with Voltron's back and sending him tumbling madly away.

As Voltron slowly recovered, Keith looked around, hoping to be able to defend against the robeast's next attack. But Lance's cry of "Incoming!" ended his search.

The Federation fleet, still a dozen strong, flashed by Voltron, heading for the Doom invasion force. As they passed, they fired on the robeast, causing it to turn away from Voltron as it attempted to defend itself. "Keith, the robeast…" said Allura.

"I hear you, Princess. Let's finish this," Keith replied. "Form Blazing Sword!" he ordered. Voltron's hands clapped together with a metallic _clang_ and formed the great blade between them. Voltron raised the Blazing sword above his head, reaching forward and unleashing a mighty roar from Green Lion.

But the robeast saw this, and prepared his own defenses. With a flick of his wrists, thick blades extended from the sides of his wrists, effectively transforming his hands into deadly swords.

"Charge him!" Keith ordered, and Voltron surged forward as the robeast took a ready stance. At the last moment, Keith ordered, "Dodge and strike!"

Voltron stopped in his tracks, and in one blindingly-fast movement, ducked to the side and attacked. The robeast was only just able to bring his own weapons around and deflect the blow, but he was sent tumbling all the same.

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As Voltron took the offensive, the Federation fleet bore down on Lotor's invasion force, which was still under fire from the _Berlin_. But the older starship was beginning to falter. Several of her shields had failed, and her hull was again scored and scorched by the weapons of the Doom cruisers.

As the _Hood_ came into range, Driscoll heard Captain DeSoto say, "Good work, _Berlin_, we'll take it from here. Fall back to assist Voltron."

"Roger that, disengaging," Driscoll replied. Secretly, he was frustrated at being called off just as he was bearing down on Lotor, but he also knew that his ship couldn't take much more of a beating and still remain operational.

As the _Berlin _withdrew, the remaining escort star-cutters streaked by, chasing the Federation defenders. They ignored the _Berlin_, and that proved a costly mistake as two of them were struck down by the phasers of the retreating starship.

Once clear of the fleet engagement, Driscoll walked up behind Lt. Singh at the ops console. "Show me Voltron," he said.

Singh complied, and a moment later, the two robots, Voltron and the robeast filled the _Berlin_'s forward screen. Voltron had just made an attack with the Blazing Sword, and the robeast was knocked senseless. But a moment later, it righted itself and struck out, forcing Voltron to parry and drop back.

Driscoll immediately turned to his first officer. "Gredar…"

The Gorn already knew what Driscoll was going to say. "We will provide supporting fire."

Driscoll smiled. "You read my mind, Commander." Without another word, he left the bridge and headed for the shuttlebay.

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"Keith, the _Berlin_'s coming in from behind the robeast," Pidge said.

"Well there's some good news," said Lance as Voltron evaded a slash from the robeast.

"It'll be better when Adam gets here," Keith replied.

Suddenly, a series of explosions erupted along the robeast's back, causing him to dive away, shrieking in pain. _Thunderwing_ broke out over the robeast's shoulder, approaching Voltron as Driscoll said, "_You rang_?"

"Finally decided to show up, huh?" Hunk needled as the Mustang circled around Voltron's back.

"Worry about that later, Hunk. _Thunderwing _interface!" Keith ordered. The little fighter's wings folded and it settled into the bay in Black Lion's back, and Voltron's power supply immediately spiked back to full and then a little.

"Okay, Keith, the gang's all here, so let's get this over with," said Allura.

"No arguments here, Princess," Keith replied. Voltron turned to the robeast as it recovered from the shock of _Thunderwing_'s attack, clicked its swords together, and glared at Voltron. "Wait for it…" said Keith.

Suddenly, the robeast lunged, one sword pointed ahead of it to spear Voltron, the other held up to deliver a finishing blow.

The robeast was a split second from impaling the Arusian robot when Keith cried, "Now!"

Voltron spun to one side, evading the outstretched sword, and in one fluid motion he kicked the robeast in the stomach, doubling the Doom construct over. Voltron spun away, giving himself room…

"Strike now!" Keith ordered as Voltron raised the Blazing Sword above his head and brought it down across the robeast's shoulders. Coming around, Voltron cut the robeast again at the hips and leapt back as two massive explosions erupted from the robeast's wounds, leaving nothing but a swirling cloud of debris.

"Good work, team, now let's go help the fleet," said Keith, as Voltron turned to the invasion fleet, with _Berlin_ at his side.

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Aboard his command ship, Lotor spun around on Haggar, his yellow eyes burning with fury. "You old hag! You have failed me again! Can't you even make a simple robeast right?"

"Sire, my robeast was weakening Voltron. It was the fighter…"

"Enough of your excuses!" Lotor silenced her. He turned to his monitor, where he watched the Starfleet ships tearing his fleet apart. His entire plan was falling to pieces in front of him. The greatest invasion fleet Planet Doom had ever fielded… laid waste by a defending force less than a tenth their number.

"Sire, Voltron approaches," said one of the officers.

"How many of our ships remain?"

"Thirty-two, Sire."

Lotor gritted his teeth, grunting in anger as he slammed his fist on the armrest of his chair. "We are defeated again. All ships, full retreat. Back to Planet Doom!"

"But, Prince Lotor, what of our comrades on Arus?"

"Let them fend for themselves," Lotor replied.

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"Berlin_ to Captain Driscoll_," Gredar's voice hissed over _Thunderwing_'s radio.

"Driscoll here, go ahead."

"_The Doom fleet is turning away from Neptune. They are heading for the wormhole_," the Gorn snarled.

Driscoll cheered, and was joined by the other members of the Force as he relayed the news. "Okay, muster up anyone we can, and follow 'em."

"_Aye, sir_," Gredar replied, closing the channel.

"Sounds like Adam's got the right idea, Keith," said Lance.

"Yeah, let's get 'em," Pidge replied.

Keith nodded. "Right, we're not letting him get away that easy. Adam, boost power to the megathrusters."

"Roger that, boss."

Moments later, Voltron sped off in pursuit of the fleeing Doom force, with _Berlin_, _Timberwolf_, and the rest of the Federation fleet close behind.


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

_RL2, MaraJade, Michaelangelo, thanks for sticking with me. I know this has been my longest (chronologically) to date, and I appreciate your continued readership and support. One more chapter after this, and then on to the next one, which I'll post probably by or before the end of the month. And thanks to the others who have R&R'ed._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers 

Chapter 15 

Lotor's fleet raced past Arus, ignoring the hails of the ships that had been left crippled during the assault, and were now begging for rescue. The Doom ships were in headlong retreat, and had no time for their comrades. The desperate pleas were soon left far behind as the remains of the once-mighty armada fled the Diamond system.

But they were not alone. Close behind the escaping fleet were Voltron, the _U.S.S. Berlin_, and…

"Berlin _to Voltron_, _the rest of the fleet is falling back_," said Commander Jacobs.

"What?" Driscoll demanded from his position aboard Voltron. "We've got them on the run! Why are they stopping?"

"_Orders from Command. All ships are to break off and return to the Sol System_."

"_Timberwolf_?" Driscoll asked.

"_They are holding formation with us_," said Gredar.

"Continue pursuit," Driscoll ordered angrily. "This isn't over." He cut the channel and glared at his instruments. They had the opportunity to end this all now, and the fleet was falling back? What the hell were they thinking? Cowards!

At that point, a dark determination began to take hold of Driscoll. It went beyond his usual pursuit of victory, or his righteous anger at Lotor's deeds. He wanted Lotor's head on a platter.

He was so fixated on Lotor's retreat that he barely heard Keith ask Pidge where Lotor was headed. Only his subconscious registered Pidge's reply that Lotor's course was straight for Doom. He ignored Allura's comment about Citrine II now being unguarded, and how she thought Voltron should help the slaves there.

It wasn't until Voltron began to change course that Adam snapped out of it. Even Voltron was giving up the pursuit? What the hell? Well, Keith could do what he wanted, but the captain had other plans.

"Good luck at Citrine, Keith," Driscoll said. "I'll see you back at Arus." Before Keith could protest, Adam ejected his fighter from Voltron's back and returned to the _Berlin._ As soon as he landed and his engine was shut down, he leapt to the deck of the shuttlebay and ran for the bridge.

Jogging off the turbolift, he skirted the tactical console as he said, "Resume pursuit course, all ahead full." He came around to stand between the helm and ops stations, slightly behind them, his eyes narrowed menacingly as he stared at the viewer.

"Pursuit course, warp nine, aye," Curtis replied.

Behind him, Mordock looked to Jacobs, "We're not going with Voltron?"

Jacobs shrugged. Her attention was drawn back to her station as an alert flashed, telling her of an incoming transmission. She read it quickly and called out, "Captain, Voltron is hailing."

"Ignore it. I know what Keith's going to say," Driscoll replied quickly. He had no interest now in freeing the enslaved people at Citrine II. His target was dead ahead, and he was drawing nearer. _Here and now_, he thought. _Your ass is mine, Low-blow_.

Minutes passed as the _Berlin _closed in on Lotor's fleet. "Entering Doom space," said Lt. Singh, beside him at the ops console.

Driscoll nodded. "Continue course and speed."

The young captain continued to watch the viewer as his ship pursued its quarry. The blur of stars whipping by at warp speed made it impossible to see Lotor's ships, but he knew they were there.

For now.

"Doom flagship in visual range," said Mordock.

"Onscreen," Driscoll snarled, his lip curling into a sneer. There he was, the low-down, son-of-all-unholy bastard. Only a few more moments. "Prepare to cut across his bow. We'll force him to drop out of warp, then shred him with the phasers," he told Curtis.

Curtis mumbled, "Aye, sir." What was going on? He'd never seen Driscoll this intense before, or this intent on his target. It was more than a little disturbing. He cast an uneasy glance at Singh, who returned it, but said nothing. At least he wasn't the only one getting a bad feeling.

Suddenly, a chime sounded, and Scotty's voice said, "_Scott ta bridge_."

"Bridge, go ahead," Jacobs replied.

"_We've go' a fluctuation in the warp intermix chamber. All those missile strikes knocked it out of alignment. We've go' ta slow down so we can make repairs_."

"How slow, Scotty?" Driscoll asked.

"_Below warp four, Captain_."

Driscoll mentally scoffed. Lotor's ships were peaking at warp five. If they slowed below warp four, the chase was over. "Negative, Scotty. We'll make due for now."

At that, everyone on the bridge looked at Driscoll as though he'd just grown two new heads. Even the greenest Academy cadet knew you never ignored a problem with the warp core. Yet the Captain had just decided to do just that.

"_Captain, if we dinna reduce speed, the warp core will destabilize. We'll have to dump the whole bloody thing!_"

"You have your orders, Engineer." Driscoll said. He looked down at Curtis, who was looking at him apprehensively. He was creeped out before, but now he was alarmed. Had Driscoll gone suicidal? "Maintain course _and speed_," Driscoll told him.

Gredar came up behind Driscoll. "Captain, we must decelerate."

Driscoll whipped around, his eyes flashing at his first officer. "I've made my decision, Commander. Live with it."

Gredar's voice became hushed. Where his hisses, growls, and snarls were usually sharp and grating, they became muted. Actually, it was the first time Driscoll could recall hearing the Gorn speak like this. "You are endangering the ship and this crew. You will be removed from command, if necessary."

"Is that a threat, Godzilla?" Driscoll demanded, his own voice subdued, but fierce. "That son of a bitch made a liar out of me, attacked my home system, did God-knows-what to Arus and Neptune Base and a dozen of our ships, and he's gonna friggin' _pay_!" As he spoke, his face quivered with the anger he felt at Lotor.

Suddenly, the ship started to shake like an airplane in turbulent weather as the warp field began to dissipate with the inconstant core output. "Captain, the warp core is destabilizing," Curtis warned.

Gredar and Driscoll continued to stare at each other, Driscoll's steel-blue eyes challenging the Gorn, and Gredar's unreadable silver orbs reflecting Driscoll's rage right back. "Captain," the Gorn said. In that word was threat, plea, and prompt, all in one, toneless statement. All the while, the buffeting grew more pronounced. It was getting hard to stay standing.

Suddenly, Driscoll whirled around. An edge of frustration entered his voice as he ordered, "Helm, reduce to one-third, break off pursuit and lay in a course for Citrine II. Commander Jacobs," he added, spinning to his tactical officer, "have the shuttlebay remove all of _Thunderwing_'s torpedoes from their launchers and transfer them to the forward bays. Lock and load." Even before he finished giving his orders, he felt the ship's flight smooth out as the reduced power brought the warp core back within its limits.

He glanced back once over his shoulder, his face briefly contorting in anger, before he headed for his seat. Though he didn't look at anyone, he could feel every eye on the bridge following him.

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"Okay, team, there's Citrine II," said Keith as Voltron approached the planet. "They probably know we're coming, so we're not going to waste time." He quickly reviewed the locations of the base's defenses and weapons, and the Voltron headed down.

Within seconds of entering the planet's atmosphere, the great defender was bracketed by laser fire as the massive anti-ship cannons opened up. Voltron made his way down through the intense fire, dodging, weaving, rolling and tumbling as he went to avoid the worst of the fire, but still taking plenty of hits from the smaller weapons.

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Far below, one man among the crowds looked up in awe as Voltron drew near. A smile slowly spread across Neal's face as he realized that Michael had succeeded. Voltron had come to free them.

Quickly, he turned to everyone around him. "Friends! Our salvation is at hand! Voltron comes to free us! Rise now and fight!"

The simple statement electrified the crowd. Chants of "Freedom!" broke out among them, and the frenzied mass began to grow and spread as slaves everywhere took up the call, and news of Voltron's arrival spread like wildfire. All over the base, slaves began openly revolting against their Drule slavemasters. Emboldened by what was happening, and empowered by their reawakened sense of independence and free will, the relatively few guards stood little chance. Great tides of humanity poured through the streets, weapons emerged from long-hidden caches, or were taken forcibly from confused and frightened guards.

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Above the doom base, Voltron continued to wheel about the sky. Looking down, Pidge said, "I guess Adam was right. They sent everything after us. There isn't so much as a fighter left."

"And no robeasts, either," Hunk said with noticeable relief.

"We've still got work to do, team," Keith replied. "Fire stingray missiles!" he ordered, as the projectiles shot from Voltron's feet and each one took out a heavy laser emplacement The robot dodged to the side and attacked another cannon emplacement, silencing it with a blast from the lion torch.

"Keith! Incoming!" Pidge warned.

Keith was about to take evasive action when another voice said, "_Sorry for the delay, Keith. Did I miss anything_?"

Keith looked around as _Thunderwing_ came in below Voltron, strafing a gun emplacement on the south wall of the command center.

"It's about time," said Keith. "It looks like most of the troops are retreating toward the main compound."

"_No problem_." Driscoll replied. "Berlin, _concentrate fire on the main building,_" he ordered. "_Fire in the hole_!"

Voltron pulled back and _Thunderwing _docked again as a barrage of torpedoes streaked by, slamming into the headquarters building, penetrating and exploding deep inside it.

And just like that, the battle was over. The lasers stopped, all was quiet for several minutes. Finally, Pidge said, "Keith, listen to this." He patched the signal he was getting into the general channel for all to hear.

"_Doom base calling Voltron_."

"This is Voltron," Keith replied. As he opened the channel, a man's face appeared on his screen. He had blonde hair and hazel eyes. His face was weather-beaten, evidence of the hard life he'd lived under the Drules.

"Voltron, I am Neal Hokra the leader of the slave resistance movement. We have captured the main base, and others are taking control of the factories and landing fields now. You have saved us, and on behalf of all the people of Citrine II, I thank you"

"Seems to me like you and your people did most of the work yourselves," Keith replied. "That's a lot to be proud of, Neal."

Neal nodded. "We still owe you thanks. Your appearance made it much easier," he said. "With no officers to command them, once the Doom soldiers saw you, they lost their will to fight. But please, tell me, did our people get through to you?"

"Michael and Kala are safe at the Castle of Lions, on Arus," Allura replied, her face coming on the screen. "They took a great risk coming to our planet the way they did, but they saved many lives."

Neal's face visibly relaxed for a moment. The fate of Michael and Kala had weighed heavily on him these last few days, and he was truly relieved and grateful that they were both safe. "And Lotor's fleet?" he asked.

"Defeated," Keith replied resolutely. "Thanks to the work you did to weaken their ships, and Michael's efforts to tell us about it."

Neal nodded.

"Neal, we must return to Arus now, but we will return. Your people have a new beginning, and we'll do whatever we can to help you make it a good one," said Allura.

"Thank you," Neal said again, and the channel closed.

"Aw, man, I gave up _Thunder_'s torps for nothing? One lousy salvo?" Driscoll griped half-heartedly. He was a little miffed, but the result was acceptable, nonetheless.

"Didn't you get Lotor?" Keith asked. The way Adam had left, he'd expected that Lotor would be done for.

"No. We had a problem with the warp core. Had to break off."

Keith nodded, and said nothing.

Lance heard the exchange over the open comm, and he didn't buy it. His intuition told him there was more to it than that, but that was an issue for another time.

Finally, Allura said, "Keith, we need to get back."

"Right. Okay, team, we'll be back here later. But right now, let's head back to Arus."

Voltron leapt higher, jumping from thin air, and rocketing away from Citrine II, with the two Federation ships close behind.

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When Voltron returned to Arus, he was greeted with a scene that was much calmer than when he'd left. There was very little laser fire to be seen now, and that was concentrated between the airfield and Olessa, where most of the Doom cruisers had crashed. The countryside was littered with the wrecks of those ships, and countless fighters. There were still a few buzzing around when Voltron returned, but they bugged out as soon as the great defender arrived.

"Looks like we've got some mopping-up to do down there, team," said Keith. "Deactivate interlocks and disengage. We'll handle them with the Lions."

The five robot Lions split off from Voltron and landed, quickly surrounding the Doom troops, while _Thunderwing_ circled overhead and the _Berlin_ and _Timberwolf_ beamed additional troops into the area. Seeing the arrival of the Lions and the additional allied forces, the Doom troops recognized the futility of their fight and began to surrender. Within minutes, all fighting had stopped. The battle for Arus was over.

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Returning to the Castle of Lions, the Voltron Force was ecstatic. They were all very tired, but they were still flying high on the rush of combat and the thrill of their victory.

Driscoll arrived just moments after the Voltron Force, and joined in their celebration. Even the normally-strait-laced Coran was smiling broadly and offering congratulations to the team.

As the team exchanged handshakes and backslaps, Adam and Allura suddenly found themselves together. They clenched each others' hand, their eyes locking, and suddenly Allura leapt at Adam, throwing her arms around his neck. Surprised, Adam instinctively caught her around her waist and held her tight. Both of them were grinning as Allura cheered, "We did it!"

"Sierra hotel, baby!" Adam joined in.

Suddenly realizing the position they were in, they released each other quickly, Allura blushing bright red and Adam scratching his jaw awkwardly.

The others were staring at the two when Coran cleared his throat, calling all their attention to him. He was grateful that Nanny hadn't been there to witness their exuberance, and he would speak to the Princess and the Captain about propriety later, but now, there was more pressing business.

"Yes, well done to you all," he said, his "Counselor" voice being used to full effect. "But we still have much to do. We must find the officers of the invasion force and interrogate them. And there is still the matter of the underwater base…"

"Coran's right, guys. We're not done yet," said Lance.

"Aw, come on, can't we take a lunch break?" Hunk asked, putting on his best begging face. "Saving the galaxy is hungry work."

"Getting out of bed is hungry work for you, Hunk," Pidge quipped, earning a depressed look from Hunk.

"I think we should deal with the base first," said Keith. "It'll take a while for our troops to secure prisoners and find the officers."

"But what do we do, Keith?" Allura asked. "It can't be easy to just capture a base like that."

"No, it won't be. Not if we want it intact."

"Yeah, we do," Adam said immediately. Everyone immediately looked at him. "Come on, guys, think of the intelligence and all the classified goodies they must have in that place. Maybe even a couple of those cloaks? Think of the advantage we could turn against Lotor."

"Us or Starfleet?" Keith asked. The fact that Adam had bailed on them as they were heading to Citrine II still nagged at him. He didn't like the way it had happened, and meant to find out why it did.

Adam rolled his eyes. "Does it really matter, as long as we get him? Who cares who pulls the trigger?"

"Captain Driscoll is right," said Coran, nodding at Adam. "Securing that base and its contents could prove vital to our war effort."

"Look at it as payback for Tango Seven," Driscoll added knowingly. After all Keith had endured from Galaxy Garrison over the loss of that base, he knew that not even "Colonel Cool" Keith would dispute the value of doling out a little comeuppance.

"All right, so we take the base," said Hunk. "But how?"

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Commander Torka sat in the makeshift holding cell, his hands bound behind him, all his weapons taken. The Starfleet sensing devices had detected everything. He was now truly helpless.

Around him were all the other command officers of the failed invasion. On the other side of the cell was someone he hadn't seen in years. Torka rose slowly and non-threateningly, but even so, he saw the guards' grip on their rifles tense.

He walked over to the other man and sat down. "Hello, brother."

Kozal did not look at his younger brother. "It's been a long time, Torka."

"It has." Torka replied. The two were silent for a few minutes, before Kozal spoke. "It seems Lotor got his wish."

"How's that?" Torka asked.

"He put me in charge of the Arus invasion, hoping I'd be killed…" he looked around him. "Or captured."

"You fought well, Kozal. Your failure is my fault. They somehow penetrated our masks, found our base. They must have learned of your plans at the same time." Torka had always looked up to his brother. Kozal was always strong and determined, without fear. Torka had always aspired to this, and now to see Kozal so humbled was startling.

"No. The Starfleet fighter found our strike base on Citrine II. He saw our fleets. It would have been no stretch of the imagination to determine its purpose," Kozal said.

Torka nodded. "Perhaps." He looked around again. "At least our men are being treated well."

Only now did Kozal actually make eye contact with Torka. "Yes, they are. Very well. Our intelligence said that the Alliance did not take prisoners."

"Then be glad that we are under Starfleet guard," said Torka.

Kozal nodded, and the two fell silent. Some hours passed before they heard the door to their cell being opened. They looked over, and saw Princess Allura walk in, flanked by two men. Both tall, one with long, black hair, dressed in a red jumpsuit, the other with close-cropped dirty-blond hair, wearing a Starfleet uniform and a leather jacket.

"Commander Torka?" Allura asked.

"Princess," Torka acknowledged. Allura stepped forward and took Torka's hands, removing his bonds. "You think a little humanity will make me betray my people?" he asked dryly, parroting Allura's statement to him in the brig on the base.

"No, I want you to help them," Allura said, the irony of Torka's statement not lost on her. "Lotor won't be back for you, nor will he try to resupply your base. Your men will die, unless you order them to surrender."

"We are Drule, Torka," Kozal said hotly. "They are still the enemy."

"Maybe," said Keith, "but even a Drule can see that being taken prisoner by us is better than a long, slow death by starvation."

"What will happen to them?" Torka asked.

"The same thing that's happened to you," said Driscoll. "They'll be taken into custody, fed, provided medical care, questioned, and then they'll end up in the same place as you. A POW camp in the Federation."

"And when the war's over," Allura added. "You go home."

"They'll execute us, Torka. Can't you see that? They'll torture us for information, and when they're done, we die." Kozal growled.

"No, that's what _you_'_d_ do to _us_," Keith said angrily. "We believe all life has value, even yours."

"Think of your men," Allura said. "They served you well. Your defeat was not their fault. Don't force them to die needlessly." She looked Torka in the eye and told him what he'd told her in her cell. "Too many commanders forget those that fought and died at their command. Don't be one of them."

Torka's decision was swift. Of course, he would agree. His men had served him well, and deserved their lives. They fought unquestioningly at his every order, and gave their best, as was befitting of any member of the Konogg Brigade.

He turned to Allura and nodded. "It is the best commanders who remember their men, respect them, and do not take them for granted. I learned that from my brother." He glanced momentarily at Kozal, who did not look back, but merely nodded. "I will order them to stand down," Torka said.

As Adam and Keith led him out, both men felt something they'd never expected to feel: respect for a Drule.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, _Thunderwing_, and the story itself._

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers

Chapter 16 

_Captain's log, stardate 51437.3_: _We have now secured the Doom base on Arus. The Konogg Brigade left us a few surprises, and it took our engineers a while to disarm them all. Big shock there. Good news, though, nobody was hurt too bad. Starfleet has expressed interest in turning it into a starbase, but that's up to them and the Alliance to hash out._

_Captain Scott is continuing with repairs, with the help of a CST that the fleet sent out. The _Timberwolf_ has been recalled, now that the Starbase's weapons are up. The base is now operating under the call-sign _"_Denubia One_", _and will provide cover for Arus while the _Berlin_ makes sorties against Doom, and of course, does the usual science and exploration thing._

_I'm kind of surprised that I haven't heard anything negative from Admiral Nechayev about the invasion. I'd've thought she'd be hot on the horn to me, wondering why I couldn't hold the Doomies at Arus. Oh, well._

The Captain deactivated the log recording and headed for the shuttlebay. He was supposed to help the Voltron Force in Shavena that afternoon. Gredar, Jacobs, and the rest of the senior crew had been avoiding him a bit since the battle. Not that he had to wonder why. His two top officers were supposed to meet him for some kind of conference they insisted on having, but they were late, and Driscoll had other things to do. If it was that important, they could catch up with him planetside.

Grabbing a tool belt armed with a hammer, drill, screwdrivers, tape rule, graviton mallet, laser welder, and other various implements, he left his ready room, and was soon on his way.

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Unknown to Driscoll, though, the Doom incursion and Driscoll's role in it were very much on Alynna Nechayev's mind, and the mind of another admiral.

Admiral Matthew Dougherty sat across from Admiral Nechayev in her office. Both had just left a meeting about the recent Doom incursion. The admiralty wanted someone's head, and as the first line of defense, Driscoll's had been the first on the chopping block. Luckily for the young Captain, cooler heads had prevailed, and the admirals realized how unrealistic it was to expect that Driscoll could have held off such superior numbers.

But that wasn't why Dougherty had gone to see Nechayev. In his hand, he held a PADD loaded with the after-action reports of Driscoll's first and second officers. And what they had to say about the Captain's actions during the pursuit of the fleeing Doom fleet was not flattering.

"I told you that kid couldn't handle the job," Dougherty said, bouncing the PADD in his palm. "I told you at his confirmation hearing that he was too immature."

Nechayev stood, looking out her window as the sun set over San Francisco bay. "I've seen it too, Matthew," she said as Dougherty tried to hand her the PADD.

"The kid is dangerous. What's he going to do next? Try to take Planet Doom by himself? He let his lust for vengeance blind him to a very real danger to his crew."

Nechayev was silent for a moment, carefully considering her response. "I'm not going to remove him from command because he got angry," she said finally. "Consider the pressure he was under for weeks: little rest, combat at all hours, trying to fight an invisible enemy, and all the while shouldering the duties of liaison officer and a front-line diplomat. That's a big load for anyone."

"And if he didn't insist on flying that damned plane of his, and serving with those Voltron people…"

Nechayev shook her head. Dougherty's concerns were all quite legitimate, but she'd considered them all herself previously. Nechayev was cold, but also coldly rational. And she simply couldn't conclude that the facts warranted Driscoll's removal. As serious a problem as this was, Driscoll had proven himself capable of his post, and the episode could easily be chalked up to stress. "He doesn't need to be removed. He needs backup," she said finally. "But we can't spare anything. They're just going to have to tough it out a while longer. And that means we'll have to cut the kid some slack.

Dougherty recognized the end of the conversation. He stood and excused himself, muttering something about a mission to the Briar Patch, which Nechayev barely registered. As the sun went down, Nechayev called for the lights to increase, and walked over to her desk.

She noticed a message from the harbormaster of Qualor II, the yard where Starfleet sent all its retired or mothballed starships. To meet the demands of the Dominion War, many of the older ships were being reactivated and refit to serve in the interior, while the newer ships were sent to the battlefront.

As she browsed the list, she noticed one ship that was awaiting renaming and recommissioning. It was an older ship that had had quite the distinguished career. The problem was, very few commanders had any experience on the type.

But as she thought, she remembered that she knew a guy… who knew a guy.

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Lotor stormed through Castle Doom, making swiftly for his chambers. He had just received the tongue-lashing of a lifetime from his father. Not that he didn't expect it. Losing over 150 ships, several thousand fighters, soldiers, scores of tanks, and two robeasts, not to mention a major shipyard on Citrine II, while accounting for only a dozen enemy ships destroyed was a pitiful showing for anyone. Especially the once-esteemed and much-feared Prince of Doom.

He cursed every member of the Voltron Force, even Allura, such was his rage. Torka and Kozal and all the other incompetent fools were lucky they were not here to face his wrath. He would have to content himself with imprisoning their families and seizing their assets.

And now, for the first time, Lotor began to long for his days of victory. He had captured dozens of worlds in his father's name, earning fortune and glory, a name to be feared, and his father's pride. All these seemed to have deserted him now as he became locked in a bitter stalemate with Voltron and his allies. He could not abandon the fight, or what honor he had left would be lost. Yet victory inched farther from his grasp with every encounter.

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In his throne room, King Zarkon sat alone with his thoughts. Manfully downing a swig of the bitter red wine he favored, he considered the latest dismal developments his incompetent son had forced upon him. There was a time when he was the most feared of all the Drule leaders. Now there were murmurings against him. He was losing too much face. And as the murmurs grew among his peers, so they did among his slaves. Even on Doom, there was talk of Voltron coming to free them. Disturbing thoughts indeed.

What had happened, he wondered, to the son he had been so proud of? Voltron was a difficult enemy, but why had so many seemingly-effective plans fallen apart at the last minute? Voltron always had a way out somehow.

Haggar had told him before that to defeat Voltron, there was a vital piece that must be destroyed first. A part that connected Voltron with his creator. But what was it?

As he looked at the golden goblet in his hand, considering Lotor, and Haggar's mystery, the answer suddenly came to him, and an evil grin crossed his face. Yes, that was the answer to it all…

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The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly down on Shavena as swarms of people filled the streets. With the threat of the Konogg Brigade gone, life was returning to normal, and several shipments of supplies had arrived, replacing and adding to the stocks that were destroyed in the raids of the past weeks.

Shavena, because of the fire, was actually much harder-hit than Olessa, and Commander Wright had set up an engineer detachment in the harbor town. For nearly a week after the attack and subsequent fires, the town had been shrouded in a veil of mourning for the lives lost. But now, the healing was beginning. Hearts would take a long time to mend, but the physical scars were already beginning to disappear.

Gredar and Jacobs followed the sounds of hammering down a dusty street, where ashes still clustered in the corners of the pavement. They were walking through a neighborhood that had seen its fair share of destruction, though not as much as some.

Coming around a corner, they saw a row of houses swarming with the black uniforms of Starfleet engineers, and the many colors of clothing worn by the Arusian civilians. It didn't take them long to find who they were looking for.

"Ronnie! We need more nails over here!" they heard Driscoll call from the back of a house. Gredar and Jacobs entered, the smell of fresh wood surrounding them and mixing with the slightly smoky odor carried by the breeze. The members of the Voltron Force were working on this house. Hunk nodded to them as he held up a wall while Lance and Pidge nailed it to the floor joists. Keith was stringing some electrical wire, and off in a back corner, Driscoll and Allura were installing wallboards. Adam was dressed, as was rare now, in a regular uniform, but he'd taken the jacket off, and now worked in just the red tunic. Both Princess and pilot wielded hammers and nail pouches as they tacked the wallboard to the studs.

Allura turned, thinking their nails had arrived. "Oh, Commander Gredar, Commander Jacobs. Come to help us?"

Driscoll looked over his shoulder at his officers as he held a board in place while Allura tacked it. His features took on a grim, slightly-dejected look as he said, "No, I think they want to talk to me."

A look of concern crossed Allura's face. "Is everything okay?"

Driscoll sighed. "Not really, but it's nothing you have to worry about." He smiled at her reassuringly as he turned to his officers.

Allura was puzzled, but said nothing. If Adam wanted to share, she decided, he'd tell her later. But she wondered what could be so bad now that the battle was over and the Konogg Brigade was in custody?

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Adam walked off with his officers through the house and out the back door, into the yard. When they were out of earshot of the house, Jacobs said, "Captain, I think you know why we're here."

Driscoll nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said with a sigh. "The warp core thing."

Jacobs nodded. This wasn't part of her job. She didn't sign up with Starfleet to be someone's parent, especially that of some kid who was supposed to be a commanding officer, but she felt she at least owed the Captain a chance to tell his side. Out of professional courtesy, if nothing else.

"We have both sent our reports to command. Your actions were inexcusable," Gredar hissed deliberately, his silver eyes glinting in the sunlight. "You were, at that time, unfit for command."

Driscoll looked at his officers. It had taken a long time to begin to establish a rapport with them, and now it was crumbling. Not what he needed in the middle of a war, and he cursed Lotor for being the cause of it. "Look," he said, "What I said is how I feel. I'm gonna make sure Lotor goes down in flames, either from the _Berlin_'s bridge or _Thunderwing_'s cockpit. After what happened, it's personal now, and I'm gonna bust his ass any way I can." He paused, seeing the argument building in Jacobs' eyes, and Gredar tensing up. "But you're right. I was stupid to ignore the warp core. I put the ship and everyone on it in danger. Exactly what I shouldn't 'a done." He looked at Gredar. "You were right. You had every right to do what you did. If I were you, I wouldn't have given me even that much chance."

"Are you going to step down, then?" Jacobs asked.

"Do you think I need to?" Driscoll replied.

The two officers looked at each other for a long time. Both knew that this was coming, but neither had an answer. Both had made arguments for and against, but the regulations were inconclusive. Finally, it was Gredar who spoke. "No, you do not."

"You gonna ask Command to remove me?"

"No," said Jacobs. "Not this time. But you always have to remember that your actions affect everyone on the ship. They are your responsibility, as much as the mission is." Jacobs looked the young man in the eye. "That should always be foremost in your mind, _Captain_."

Driscoll nodded. He turned away, looking back at the house. "Look, for what it's worth, I know how ya feel. I musta scared the shit outta you guys. I was always taught that I had to be in control of myself, but that time, I lost it. All I wanted was to chase Lotor down and kill him, and to hell with anything else. And if I didn't have such a good XO, we might not be here to discuss it now.

Driscoll turned back to the two and half-smiled at them. "I can't promise that I won't get that pissed again, but I can promise that I'll remember it's not just me. It's the _Berlin_ and everyone on her, too. And they come first. That _is _my job, after all. Not many people thought I could do this job. You gave me a chance, and I blew it, I acted like a dumb kid." He looked at Gredar and Jacobs in turn, his voice taking on a solemn tone. "It won't happen again."

Jacobs nodded at Driscoll. "The thing is, you are a kid, Captain," she said to the teenager. "But you don't run into many that can handle a starship. For a kid, you're not too bad."

Driscoll nodded, and smiled in gratitude. "Thanks, T.J." He turned to Gredar, looking up at the towering reptile. "Any thoughts to add to that, Commander?"

"I would have asked for your relief," the Gorn replied. The comment didn't surprise Driscoll. Gredar wasn't known for tolerance. "But know this: we Gorn hold all oaths absolute. And so is yours."

Driscoll realized that he'd just been warned. If he wanted any chance of restoring Gredar's confidence in him, he'd need to make sure he didn't lose control again. If he did… it probably wouldn't be pretty.

"Understood, Commander."

Gredar growled, but said nothing.

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Allura watched the whole exchange from a window, but the sounds in the house drowned out the voices from outside.

"What's with them?" said a voice behind her.

Startled, Allura spun around to find herself face-to-face with Keith. They were so close, her nose was almost touching him. Keith stepped back, blushing and looking away awkwardly.

"I, uh, I don't know. I couldn't hear," Allura said.

Keith nodded and looked out at the three for a moment, before they turned and headed back toward the house. "Well, whatever it was, it's over." Keith had his own hunch about the secretive meeting, but he'd keep it to himself, like he always did. Raising his voice, he shouted to his team-mate, "C'mon, Dinoman, you gotta get that wallboard up by the end of the day!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin', ya slave driver," Driscoll retorted from the yard. The other officers didn't follow, and were claimed by transporter beams as Driscoll entered the house.

"'Slave driver', huh?" Keith asked, using his best "boss" voice and look.

"Yeah, well, somebody's gotta say it, and I'm the only one who can get away, so…"

"Really?" Keith asked, looking around at the others. "Well, just for that, I want this whole house finished by sundown." He wasn't serious, but he said it as though he were ordering a combat maneuver, just to see what would happen.

Without a word, Adam shrugged and gestured to Allura. "C'mon, Ally, let's do this." The two walked back to the wall they'd left off on, and Keith turned to leave.

"Hey, Keith," he heard Adam call. He turned, and just then a large, heavy glop of something wet hit him square in the chest. Looking down, he watched the clump of drywall mud flop to the floor. He looked at Driscoll, who was grinning ear-to-ear. "How's ya like 'at, massa?" he said mockingly with an affected southern accent.

Keith picked up the glop of mud. "Let me show you," he said, and hurled it. Adam dodged, and the mud caught Allura's elbow, making her drop her hammer on her foot.

"OW!" she yelled. She looked at Keith murderously. Before the commander could think, she hurled a fresh glob at him. _Oh, well, turnabout's fair play_… he thought.

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By the end of the afternoon, not a single new sheet of wallboard had been put up, but at quitting time, all six members of the Voltron Force were perfectly plastered, and every tub of wall mud was empty.

"That's it," said Lance, flopping down with the rest of the group on the back lawn as he dug some mud out of his ear. "Next time, me and Hunk do the wallboard. You're on cleanup duty, Driscoll."

As they sat there, shaking dried mud from their hair and pulling it off their clothes, the pilots watched the sun set and two of Arus' moons appear dimly in the fading light. Even as night fell, there were still sounds of people at work, and, at least for that one, perfect moment, surrounded by friends, nature's beauty, and the courage of mankind, everything was right with the universe.

_And that's it. Another sortie ends with a successful trap and a pint in the club (or maybe a gallon in the ear, in Lance's case). Thanks very much to everyone who read and reviewed. This was definitely the most challenging story I've done yet, but I'm pleased with the results. I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I have. And yes, I've already started on the next one. As soon as I can come up with a title for it, I'll post. Probably by the end of the month, but I've got midterms to administer (then grade...ugh) so it may be a week or two._

_And a special thanks to Michaelangelo Cornholio. I'm glad I have continued to live up to your expectations, and your comment on my first story about Driscoll being sort of Mary-Sueish has been nagging at me ever since, and is a driving force behind the young Captain's emerging dark side. Just had to figure out how I wanted to do it._

_Until next time, check 6._


End file.
